


Kiss Me Like I've Never Been Kissed

by Toryb



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Babysitting, Best Friends to Lovers, Betty's never been kissed, Eventual Smut, Everyone is in on Operation Summer Fling except Jughead, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, I lost my impulse control on a drabble prompt and it ended up being 4k oops, Jughead Jones is bitter about his father, Living Together Secretly, Long-Distance Friendship, Mutual Pining, Summer, drunken kisses, inspired by a tumblr prompt and a tumblr post, probably, someone save them from themselves, specficially, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-05-02 22:55:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14555331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toryb/pseuds/Toryb
Summary: Betty's never been kissed and her best friend Jughead has a crazy idea to change that, especially since he's been in love with her for going on eleven years. After spending years apart, cultivating a skype dependent relationship, Jughead finally makes his way back to Riverdale to help his very determined friend live her "wild side" during summer vacation.Or rather: tropes tropes tropes tropes nothing but tropes here. Keep a look out for drunk kisses, mutual pining, two idiots in love, fluff, and angst.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo....it's midnight and i was writing one of my drabble prompts on tumblr that said "I have a prompt for you: “You’re 17 and you’ve never had a boyfriend? Not one?” “No guys, just don’t see me like that” Jughead and Betty... with some Bughead smooches and sexy times (if it fits)." and well...my ass got a little carried away. Like 4k words carried away.
> 
> This part is mostly the online relationship between Betty and Jughead and acts as something to set up a story if you guys want me to continue it! I have a lot of ideas but obviously neither I nor anyone else was expecting me to come up with something like this! So I'd love to hear if you're interested in seeing what comes next based off the summary and the tags <3
> 
> Kudos to whoever left the prompt for getting my creativity flowing after a hell week.

“Wait you’re telling me you’re 17 years old and you’ve never had a boyfriend? Not one?” The ball Jughead had been tossing at the ceiling fell down with a loud smack on his face--a fitting visual representation of his surprise.

The girl on the other side of the skype call, a beautiful blonde with a high ponytail and a brilliant smile, rolled her eyes. “Don’t laugh Jug. We’ve been friends since we were in diapers and you’re asking me that? You know I would have told you if I had. You probably would have been the first to know, even before Polly and mom.”

It was true, for the most part. Jughead Jones and Betty Cooper has been friends since they were in diapers, even if most of their conversations happened through third party online services. When he was eleven years old, Jughead had forcibly been moved to Toledo to live in an overcrowded house with his mom, younger sister, and grandparents, after his dad’s gang violence related incarnation. The separation had been agonizing at first. They cried. They screamed. They wrote letters in a classic pen pal style until Alice Cooper caved and finally bought her daughter a cell phone and a laptop.

Jughead was not so lucky. For him, a lot of their calls came from payphone dial-ups. There wasn’t enough money to have a bed outside the pull-out couch, let alone afford the luxuries of a laptop. So, he started working at fourteen, saved up enough money. His first call was made to an ecstatic Betty. She answered on the third ring.

Being from poverty meant Jughead did not take for granted the few things he cherished. His alone time working at the only drive in movie theatre in all of Toledo, the way his little sister laughed when she beat him at Mario Kart, and his weekly calls with Betty where they talked about anything, everything, and--this was a new development--their love lives. The last one was relatively non-existent for both parties. Jughead’s first kiss had been an unmemorable spin the bottle related incident and he was pretty sure Krissy rigged it, so he’d had to pop in the basement closet of her parent’s creepy old house and kiss her until her braces nearly knocked one of his front teeth out.

Maybe that was for the best. After all, it wasn’t like he was and had been for seven years harboring a big fat crush on his best friend in the world. No, it was nothing like that. He absolutely didn’t have her class schedule memorized, and he totally couldn’t recount the time in third grade she discovered she was allergic to dandelions after Archie had picked her a handful and her eyes had swollen shut with perfect memory. He didn’t go to bed dreaming about her. He didn’t wake up wishing she was right beside him. This whole thing was totally platonic.

Except it wasn’t and with every passing day he was falling further and further in love with Betty Cooper and he had no chance of it ever being something else because as far as he was concerned, the only person who occupied Betty’s vision was Archie Andrews, the football star boy next door who fit in with her ideal love story far better than the impoverished wierdo from Toledo ever could. No one could describe Jughead as idealistic. Bitterly aware of reality might have been more apt.

“Well you never mentioned it, but I didn’t know if we were there in our relationship?”

“There in our relationship? Juggie you carried me home in the rain once because I fell down and got dirt on my dress when I was five. I’m pretty sure we’re everywhere in our relationship.”

There was a crackling on the other side of the screen as he watched her rip apart a granola bar like a malnourished wolf cub. Deciding it best to change subject before he made a complete fool of himself--and accidentally stumbled into a crushing crush admission--he pointed to the bar and contorted his face in disgust.

“What the hell is that? It looks terrible.”

“Oh my god it’s a granola bar what is your problem?” she laughed from the other end.

“I’m sorry the way it ripped made me worry that our connection got crushed again. Which wouldn’t be so much of a problem if someone would get a mac product and we could FaceTime.”

“What’s wrong with my android?”

“Literally everything you just said.”

Betty rolled her eyes and threw the crumpled paper at the screen. “Shut up. God you are so mean to me you know that? What did I ever do to you Jones? You’re the one that up and moved away.”

It was a tender spot for both of them and regret always lingered when they spoke of the what ifs. What if Gladys hadn’t been able to take him in? What if he had stayed in Riverdale? What if. What if. What if. How would life be for him? More important, for them? Would Archie Andrews have been a blip on the radar to a bigger and brighter connection between them? Or would he be sitting in bed at home like he is now with a crushed heart every time she spoke about him?

His rival in love with states away from him. There wasn’t a single fucking thing he could do to fix it either. For Archie’s part, he had tried to keep in touch. But with his parent’s own divorce causing a constant back and forth flight from Chicago to Riverdale, it was only during the occasional Ohio layover that they had a chance to reconnect. When they’d met again the summer before sophomore year, Jughead could only bitter recall the words he’d overheard Kevin mumble to Betty one night.  _Oh my God Archie got hot._

Because fuck him, of course he did, because that guy was good at everything and anything, Archie did get hot. And Jughead was the same skinny boy he had always been, with hair still untamable under a knit cap and bags under his eyes that might as well have been designer with how long he has spent making them.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, Jughead refocused on the conversation at hand, channeling all his jealous hatred for a certain ginger towards a nasty granola bar. “I’m just watching out for your health. Those things could kill you. Too much fiber. Way too much fruit. Try a burger.”

“Ugh I wish. But Cheryl’s been awful lately. If she caught me eating a burger she’d toss me from the top of the pyramid and probably the entire squad. You know how hard I worked to get up there.”

“I know. Clawing cheerleader’s eyes out in a vicious game for dominance. That’s the Betty I know and love.”

“You accidentally trip a girl and nearly break her arm once and you never hear the end of it!”

They laughed like that for the rest of the night, well past what Jughead knew to be the Cooper bed time. Gladys peaked her head into the living room to turn off the lights and spotted her son still awake on his laptop.

“Are you going to bed anytime soon?”

“Probably not, Mom. I’m on the phone with Betty.”

Gladys’ expression shifted into something unreadable, like it always did when someone brought up anyone in the Cooper clan. Whatever bad history there was between his mother and Alice had been buried a long time ago with no hope of unearthing it—like a bitter time capsule marked ‘open and perish’. It wasn’t like she hated Betty. Quite the opposite, he was sure that often times Gladys wished her own son was more like her.

“Oh, hi Betty,” she acted surprised like she always did, though Jughead wasn’t sure why. Everyone in the house knew how often they talked. Even his perpetually grumpy grandfather at least knew the name of the ‘girl back in New York who looks like a young Madonna’—whatever that meant.

Betty smiled and waved politely even if she couldn’t see her. She had been raised to be terminally delightful. “Hi Mrs. J- Miss Jones. I hope your day is going well.”

Obviously embarrassed by her slip up, Betty hid her face in her hands, much to Jughead’s amusement. If she noticed, Gladys didn’t let on.

“Well both of you should get some sleep soon. It’s getting late. I have to be up early tomorrow for my shift at work and if I wake you up, I don’t want to hear you complain about it, alright? And I mean it. I’ll sick the dogs on you again if I have to.”

The dogs. His living nightmare. It wasn’t that Jughead didn’t like dogs, quite the contrary, he loved them. Big dogs. Not yappy little chihuahuas who liked to eat his shoes and pea on his things because even after six years they were still convinced he was an interloper in their home. And in some ways, he was. The dogs had beds and he didn’t.

Bruce and Teacup made his life a living nightmare. Early in the morning they would howl at the neighbors or the mailman. Every night they would sit by his feet and beg for scraps. It didn’t matter if he gave them or didn’t, someone would still get mad at him for it. Bruce was a biter and Teacup liked to mark her territory. Both of them hated him as much as he hated them. No doubt that was why his mother used them as his morning wakeup call instead of Jellybean, who was—in her adolescent years—now more likely to curl up next to him and go back to bed instead of jump on his head until he was awake.

“I promise if you wake me up I won’t complain about it, mom. Besides, tomorrow’s Saturday and I won’t have to go into work until around five, so there’s no reason to piss me off in the morning with the dogs.”

“You have a terrible mouth, where the fuck did you learn it?”

Jughead smiled at her teasing and shook his head. “Who knows? Go to bed, Mom. Or you’ll be cranky tomorrow.”

“I’m going, I’m going. Sleep well. You too Betty.”

“Thanks Miss Jones.”

Things were complicated with his mother. So complicated, Betty had learned not to ask too many questions about it. There were some days everything fell into place and Jughead was grateful to be living at his mother’s instead of with some unknown family part of the Riverdale foster care system. He never doubted she loved him. Gladys Jones was not a cruel or evil woman, simply one who had been thrust into the role of parent far too young and floundered her way into mediocrity with the help of overly religious parents who scored her first child—born out of wedlock and a pain in the ass.

“You okay?” Betty asked gently.

“Yeah. I always am.” He changed the subject, “Tell me again about what happened at cheer practice today? I’ll be honest I was only half listening.”

“Okay so…”

This was how his Friday’s often ended, laying down beside his laptop and pretending that Betty was next to him instead. At least he was the only one to see her at her most intimate. Hair down, makeup gone, a few sun spots literally her alabaster skin. God she was breath taking.

He craved Betty. There was no other way to put it. Late at night he would wake up and sneak off to the bathroom to push through the dreams that had made him unbearably hard, spilling onto his hand with nothing but her name on his lips. Jughead Jones by nature was not a sexual being, but if Betty Cooper didn’t push all the right buttons, especially when she twirled in her cheer skirt and asked if she looked okay. She always looked okay.

For now, he took solace in being alone with her at her most vulnerable. Archie Andrews, Chuck Clayton, and definitely not Dilton Doiley had never seen her like this. It was reserved for him and him alone. She could see him without his most prized security blanket, and he could see her without hers. Balance. Always balance with them.

Tonight, it hurt worse than usual, not being able to reach out and brush the bits of blonde hair that fell in front of her face that she tried so hard to blow out of the way. Her voice got quieter as the night went on, unwilling to risk the wrath of Alice Cooper or even her older sister Polly, who was dealing with a set of newborn twins while Jason, the father and her future husband, scrambled to find a place in Riverdale they could set up permanently in. (Thornhill was out of the question. No one wanted to raise their children around Penelope and Clifford Blossom, especially the children that had been raised by then. Rumor had it that Cheryl had moved in with her longtime girlfriend, Toni Topaz, the second she’d graduated.)

Jughead was an intimacy cripple. His mother was not good at being loving and his father had been a rampant alcoholic. His grandfather was cold and his grandmother spat his name like he was the ghost of FP Jones, the man who had impregnated their sixteen year old daughter and forced her into a shit hole trailer park life for eleven years until she had finally run away. In some ways, he probably was. The only person who even dared hug him for too long was little Jellybean, who was quickly becoming not so little anymore.

At eleven years old, she was the coolest person he had ever met. She loved vinyl records—mostly Pink Floyd—and pixelated horror games that even made him have to hide his eyes. Sometimes, they would sneak out in the old pick-up truck he’d spent years saving to buy and they would sit in the middle of a wide empty lot, listening to the cricket’s hum through the heavy night air. She would name constellations she remembered from an old astrology book that got rented so many times from the library that they’d finally just given it to her as a birthday present.

_“That’s Persus and Andromeda. He fell in love with her while she was chained to a rock after he murdered Medusa.”_

 

_“Seems like a weird place to fall in love with someone.”_

 

_“No weirder than in elementary school when you’re both eating crayons.”_

 

_“What’s that supposed to be a reference too?”_

 

_“I’m just saying, maybe you and Betty will get your own stars one day. But they’ll sing about your heroism fighting the demon known as poor skype connection instead of a Gorgon.”_

If even Jellybean noticed--though to be fair she was far too intelligent for her own good--then he was in a bowl of hot water with the temperature rising fast. To ruin their relationship would be heart breaking but...he craved more nearly every day. 

As the night went on, their openness pushed a point that would likely make most people uncomfortable. Betty asked him what he thought about her period cycle this month and Jughead pretended he knew what the hell she was talking about whenever she mentioned flows. It didn’t matter what it was about, listening to her talk made his heart flutter.

“How come I haven’t been kissed yet, Juggie?” she asked abruptly, halting whatever conversation they’d been having before and effectively wiping it from his mind.

“I’m sorry what?”

She groaned and rolled to the side to face him. “Why don’t guys think of me like that? Like someone they want to date? I’m pretty and I’m a cheerleader and I’m going to get a scholarship into a great college! What did I do wrong socially?”

“Um,” he tried to think of something comforting and failed. “Listened to your mother?”

“Way to make me feel better.”

The guilt was instantaneous. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m just teasing. Honestly, I don’t know why no one has asked you out yet. I know...I know that if I were there I’d probably kiss you.”

There was a waited pause until Betty broke out in a grin. “Thanks Jug, but I know you’re just saying that. I appreciate it though. Seriously. But I think you were onto something before. I haven’t experienced like...anything because I’ve been so into pleasing my mom. Making her happy. Well not anymore. This summer goodbye good Betty and hello...hello Dark Betty. Maybe I’ll...Maybe I’ll get drunk and kiss a boy at a party! Or shoplift something from the Centerville mall.”

“Whoa, whoa, Miss Bonnie, first off, no you wouldn’t, you’re getting sick just thinking about breaking the law now.”

“You’re right I am.”

Jughead laughed. “Two, there’s nothing wrong with living a little bit wilder you know. Especially if you think you’ve been missing out on High School experiences. I’ve never been one to live a cliché but I know that’s what you’re into, so I say go for it.”

“I just...I don’t know how. I don’t have many friends but you and Arch and he’s so distracted by Veronica Lodge to even pay attention to me anymore. Kevin invites me out sometimes, but I guess I get nervous that something bad is going to happen. I wish you were here. I never get nervous with you.”

If a cartoon lightbulb could appear right above his head, it would have. A brilliant. Or maybe it was going to be a stupid one. Nevertheless, it was an idea and he was going to grab it by the balls and run with it. Jughead held up a finger to pause her, quickly jumping off the quaking futon and digging around in his backpack for the letter he was looking for.

_Dear Jug,_

 

_It’s your old man. You probably don’t remember me too well, or maybe you do. I um, I’m getting out of jail this summer and I’m on parole, but they said you could come visit if you wanted. I miss you. I know your mom won’t let your sister come but I was thinking maybe you and your old man could camp out at the old trailer and you could tell me about your life. How you’ve grown up?_

 

_I don’t expect anything from you, kid. I did a lot of terrible things I don’t expect you to forgive. But, if you’re interested, I’d like to try and make right some of them. Starting with you._

 

_Give me a call if you want._

 

_FP Jones_.

The letter had felt awkward, too formal for the man he remembered so vividly, but most of the ones his dad wrote did. For years he’d been writing without a response. At first Gladys had been furious, calling him again and again and begging him to stop writing. Eventually she gave up on that and opted for burning the letters in the fire. A few of them, he would catch before she could, and they would get tucked away at the bottom of his old worn backpack. FP’s attitude was the kind of tenacity Jughead both admired in other people and despised in himself--because it was likely the thing that kept him spinning right back around Betty’s little finger.

Facing his dad would be like looking at a demon in the mirror: a possible future in the long line of “what ifs” that plagued his mind at night when he couldn’t keep the demons at bay with one of the selfies Betty had sent him for rough waters. But it was a way into Riverdale no questions asked. His mom would be angry, hurt, but she wouldn’t stop him. One less mouth around to feed would help lessen the load for everyone a lot, even if it was only for the summer.

“My dad’s getting out of jail and he invited me to come stay with him in Riverdale for the summer. Maybe I... maybe I could Betty. And then you could go on your wild fantasies and I’ll be there to keep you at tethered to something real, so you don’t dive off the deep end.”

Like his dad. Or her older brother Chic, who had overdosed just last year and ended up in a recovery center that involved a lot of steps he wasn’t willing to budge on. Sometimes they still visited him, but whatever tumultuous relationship she shared with her brother he understood. Living with an addict was never easy.

“Are you serious? Juggie you have to! You have to come! We could spend the whole summer together. I mean when you’re not busy with your dad, of course.”

“I get the feeling my dad will probably be busy with a lot of other things that aren’t me. So, we’ll have plenty of time together. If you don’t mind the company.”

Betty squealed quietly and hugged her computer screen. “Yes, yes, a million thousand times yes. I can’t wait to give you a real hug this summer. It’s been years.”

2 years, 3 weeks, 29 days exactly, but who was counting? (Him, he was, without shame.) Two years was too long to get to hug his best friend. Sure, they sent each other care packages, but there was nothing like getting to hold her in his arms. Jughead hoped she still smelt like fresh soap and vanilla.

She continued, gushing with excitement. “We could go to Pop’s again and eat until we explode and then maybe go to the bijou for a double feature like we always used to on your birthday. And maybe spend one night at the twilight drive in? My car isn’t the best for it but I’m sure Archie would let us borrow his or something if he’s not taking Veronica. Or maybe the four of us could even go together. I’m not sure if you’d like V, but it would be worth a shot. I bet Arch misses you too even if you boys are horrible at admitting it to each other.”

“I thought you were trying to go all ‘dark Betty’ this summer? That sounds a lot like ‘good girl Betty’ to me.”

“I can mix the good and the dark, can’t I?” she pouted and curled closer around the pillow. “Like a chocolate vanilla swirled milkshake from Pop’s. Or cookies and cream.”

“I’m just teasing. I would probably kill for a milkshake, a burger, and a classic movie night with you that doesn’t involve me sneaking out to the nearest McDonalds and us arguing with the Rabb.it streaming until we give up and just decide to watch some bad Netflix documentary together. I can’t wait Betts. Seriously. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Juggie. Every day. Every hour. Every minute. Every second. There’s a giant hole in Riverdale that’s perfectly you sized.” Despite her best efforts to conceal it, Betty let out a loud yawn, stretching like a cat as her sheets shifted at the change. Her eyes fluttered closed, fighting a losing battle to stay awake now that the excitement was slowly dying down.

“You’re exhausted. Get some sleep. I’ll text you in the morning?”

She smiled sleepily. “You always do. And text me while you’re at work too. I’m not doing anything but homework tomorrow. I love you. Sleep well.”

“Yeah you too.”

The connection went dead. Nothing but empty static filled the heavy air space now. Jughead fell back on the bed, so lost in thought he forgot to re-tape his computer camera to keep the FBI men away. 

“I love you too Betty. More than I can figure out how to say right now. But over summer, I promise I’m going to kiss you and you’ll never want anyone else to kiss you again.”

If he couldn’t do it now, how on earth was he going to muster up the courage to tell her face to face? He was so completely and utterly fucked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jughead I love you. I’ve always loved you. I never dated anyone because I wanted you to be my first, my only, my everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy season finale Riverday!! Super excited about it! I wanted to update so we could all have something to fill our time with while we waited! Also POVs alternate between chapters and this one is in Betty's. The next will be Jughead's and so on and so forth. Also, check the tags, because I added tropes so I can just fill this thing to the bring. Hope you enjoy and thanks to everyone who left comments encouraging me to continue this!

The week leading up to Jughead’s arrival, Betty could hardly sit still. She cleaned the house no less than three times. Every morning she practiced making his favorite pancakes and every night she rehearsed the speech she would give him when she threw herself into his arms and finally confessed everything she had been keeping a secret.

“Jughead I love you. I’ve always loved you. I never dated anyone because I wanted you to be my first, my only, my everything.”

Kevin yawned and shook his head. “Boring. You think you can woo your lifelong crush with something as generic as that? Spice it up Betty, don’t go in sounding like Sunshine Barbie when you already look like one.”

In the vanity mirror, Betty watched her expression sour. She was wearing her favorite sundress—decorated in bright yellow daffodils that matched her cardigan, flats, and the spotted ribbon in her hair. Perhaps it was a bit juvenile, but Jughead always said yellow looked best on her, and it was him she was trying to impress, not an impossibly difficult Kevin.

And then she remembered her promise to him on the phone. This was supposed to be a summer for her to experiment outside the confines of her mother’s carefully constructed, laminate labeled “perfect daughter” box. She wanted to toe into worlds that seemed terrifying, not as mundane as the church craft projects she always did when she helped during Sunday school.

Last week, only a few days after the school bells rang and signaled freedom for Riverdale youth, Alice had left on a two month-long Women in Journalism workshop held across country in Portland, Oregon. It had been nothing short of agony to get her to agree to go, but Betty craved the freedom that came with the Cooper hawk eyes lifted off of her. Polly and Jason lived together, and both promised they would visit Betty, so she didn’t get lonely—because Alice was under the impression her daughter was a dog instead of a teenager on the precipice of adulthood. After intense coercion and a promise—that she intended not to keep—about no boys being allowed in the house (other than Kevin), Betty was helping her mother pack and plan the intense getaway.

She pulled the ponytail from her hair and shook it out, leaving the cardigan hanging from her door knob. The dress showed off her shoulders, which were slightly sunkissed from the hike last weekend with Veronica and Cheryl—who with which she had somehow become something bordering on best friends. The woman in front of her was a far cry from the little girl Jughead left. She was borderline womanly now. Hopefully, it was enough to attract him.

“There we go. Stunning. You have him hook, line, and sinker as long as you practice your speech. Do you think he still wears that stupid hat?”

“It isn’t stupid, but yes, he does still wear the hat. I think it’s cute,” Betty protested.

“Blinded by your love for him. Now shoo, before you’re late. I heard the buses were running early today so you should get there ahead of time.”

Grabbing her purse and keys, Betty planted on pink perfection kiss on Kevin’s cheek. “Thanks for helping me out today, Kev. Out of everyone, it’s you who’s the best at this. Archie would just comment on my legs, so would Cheryl, and Veronica would have me change sixteen times.”

“I am a gift to humanity, truly. I mean it. Go. Off with you. And don’t forget you promised we could all meet at Pop’s for a late lunch, early dinner situation after you pick him up! Ronnie is dying to meet the elusive boy who captured our fair Betty’s heart at such a tender young age.”

“As long as Archie promises to hold his tongue and be quiet about it, then I’m excited to have us all together again. I know he’s been craving a proper Pop’s milkshake and burger and I don’t want Archie ruining it if I don’t get the courage to tell him I like him, okay?”

Kevin zipped his lips. “Consider it done. If Archie even thinks of opening his mouth, I’ll grab his tongue myself. But you will tell him, won’t you? That’s the entire point of Operation Summer Fling!”

“I hate that we call it that,” Betty groaned. “It makes it sound like it’s not permanent, which is what I want us to be. Not just some summer Grease romance. A forever thing. Like maybe I’ll go to college in Ohio with him or we can move to the West Coast together and go to journalism at University of Washington.”

“And you’re fantasizing. Save that for after the eternal love confession gets out. Also, not to say I told you so, but you’re running 5 minutes late and you have two texts from Jughead asking where you are.”

With a frustrated squeal, Betty grabbed her phone and sprinted out of her home, leaving it unlocked so Kevin could lock up on his way out. She quickly typed out a response: an apology for being late and a promise she would pick up the tab on his dinner to make up for it.

**Jug:**

_ Don’t worry about it Betts. I’m just glad I get to see you. The milkshakes are a bonus. _

Her heart fluttered, and she giggled like a love stuck schoolgirl—which, realistically, she very much was and had been for years. Betty couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she fell in love with Jughead Jones. It was a gradual process, not something like the overbearing tidal wave that happened with Veronica and Archie. Inch by inch they pulled closer together until she woke up one morning and whispered, “I love Jughead Jones.”

For the rest of the day she had been in a tizzy. Over and over again she said it, “I love Jughead Jones.” Her notebooks were filled to the brim with sketches of his name, hearts that covered up important notes. Cheryl ended up being the one to catch her, ripping out the page and parading it to their group of friends who quickly demanded answers she could not provide. Her love for Jughead simply just was. It had been a slow evolution from a childish friendship affection to a deep and powerful love.

Everyone was in on “Operation Summer Fling”. Nothing but support rolled in for her hair brained scheme to show Jughead she wasn’t some simple manic pixie dream girl but a wild and fully developed girl worth loving. Even if today’s confession went tits up, there were backup plans B through Z to help guide things along. No way was she letting him get away from her again, not now and not ever.

Betty spotted him at the bus stop, leaning against the wall. He was taller now, stronger, but with the same gentle eyes. Seeing him in person was different than through the fuzzy skype lens filter that coated her fondest memories of him. In a rush, she was throwing herself at him, blinking tears from her eyes.

“You’re actually here. I won’t lie, for a while I thought I had dreamed this all up in my head. But it’s you. Right here!”

“Right here,” he promised. “Not an android, an alien, or a weird combination of the two. Just plain old Jughead Jones. You look…really nice today Betts. I like that color on you.”

She remembered. How could she forget—the first time he properly made her blush was in eighth grade, when she had sent him pictures of her pretty yellow church dress. He had told her she looked like liquid sunshine. That was a feeling she wanted to hold onto forever.

“Thanks, I um…I wore it because I remembered you saying something about liking yellow.” With the fumble of her words out in the open, Betty tried not to bite her on tongue off to avoid screaming in frustration. This was not the smooth admission she had wanted. This was already a mess. Maybe it was time to abort mission and regroup.

“Oh. Yeah, you’re right. I do,” he yawned and pulled the duffle bag closer. “Long drive. I could use a milkshake and a burger as a pick me up. Maybe two burgers now that I think about it. Three if I can’t stop myself.”

Betty shook her head. “Can you ever stop yourself?”

“Not when it comes to Pop’s I can’t.”

Laughing, they made their way to Betty’s car. Her heart thundered, threatening to jump from her chest at any moment and proclaim—loudly—the affections she was harboring for her lifelong best friend. Before entering the car, she gave herself a Kevin like pep talk. There was nowhere for him to run in a car. At least that was a comforting thought—though she wouldn’t put it past Jughead to barrel roll through an open door into oncoming traffic from sheer and intense embarrassment.

At first the conversation was tame. The usual “oh how were finals”, “fine how about yours” chatter with no substance. There was no need to try and impress Jughead with her high GPA and fantastic flute ability—that he knew she has but had been sworn to secrecy about. Eventually, they relaxed. Without the online barrier between them, they were feeling freer than ever.

“When are you seeing your dad?” Betty asked.

He had mentioned he would be staying with his father during his summer visit in Riverdale, but any more information than that she had yet to drag out of him. Judging by the rolls of his eyes and the shift in his body tension, Jughead was not thrilled to be answering.

“Probably after I’m done spending time with you. I told him not to pick me up from the bus stop. I’m not exactly here to mend the fractured father-son relationship I have with my gang dad. I’m here to spend time with my best friend who I haven’t gotten to hug in years because of his shitty mistakes. So, he can see me when he gets to see me. He’ll be plenty preoccupied with a bottle in his hands, I’m sure.”

Betty frowned, reaching out and taking his hand as they pulled up to one of the few stoplights in Riverdale. “Just promise me you’ll try and open up to him. Just a little? I don’t want this vacation to be horrible for you. And besides, last I checked people weren’t allowed to drink in prison. And if he is then you can spend the entire summer crashing on my couch.”

Smile returning, he squeezed her hand. “Thanks Betty. Enough about that. Tell me what’s first on Betty’s ‘Wild Summer Extravaganza’.”

(Not quite as clever as ‘Operation Summer Fling’ but at least there were multiple named plans of actions going on at once. That would be easy to keep track of probably.)

Looking at him, curled up in the driver’s side and watching his childhood flash by him, Betty’s throat felt cracked and dry. Her practiced to perfection speech died a cruel death before it could even leave her pursed lips.

“Well…I figured you and I could have movie marathons on the floor of my living room. Maybe Psycho, Scream, all those things we try to stream but never can. I’ll make homemade caramel corn and we can,” she gasped for dramatic effect, “Stay up past bedtime and drink soda.”

Jughead put his hand to his chest, eyes wide. “Now, Elizabeth Cooper, how in the hell do you plan to get any of that done with your mom in the house. A boy sleeping over? That’s positively scandalous. What will people say?”

“What they say doesn’t matter, and what my mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her. She’s away at a conference for a most of the summer so I can enjoy free reign in my house like the princess I always pretended to be growing up.”

“Lying to your mom about what you’ll be doing when she’s gone. Not bad, Cooper. Not sure if it’s wild status but it’s a step in the right direction. And I won’t lie and say I’m not excited about the prospect of just you, me, popcorn, and Hitchcock all night long.”

Betty laughed. “Ew! Don’t make it sound so sexual. I’m not going to fuck the DVD case for you.”

“Come on, don’t kinkshame me like that. Absolutely uncalled for.”

“You shut up before I turn this car around and make the bus take you back to Toledo.”

“Fine, fine! Okay. So, what else is on the checklist?”

Biting her lip, Betty took a deep breath. “Well I know you don’t really like parties, and neither do I, but Cheryl’s girlfriend Toni has a group of friends who’s throwing one at an old warehouse and I thought we could go together. It’s next weekend so I figured you could spend about a week readjusting to boring old Riverdale before we cranked it up a notch into party town.”

“One,” Jughead snorted, “Never, please never, say party town again. This isn’t a poorly written Seth Rogan movie. Two, I think it’s a good idea. I mean, you said you wanted the wild side and a party is a good place to start. Worst case scenario the party sucks and we dip to spend time at Pop’s or the Bijou together. The Bijou is still, around right? I’m in desperate need of a double feature.”

“It is absolutely still around, and I’ll add that to the checklist. The Drive-In is too if you want to go there.”

Immediately she was overwhelmed with one of her nightly fantasies, when her hand snaked a little too far under the covers and explored herself in ways no one had ever dared to touch her before, ways she had, until recently, not even dared to explore herself. She dreamed of Jughead touching her under the blanket of a truck while the movie played. Maybe a trashy romance so all his attention would be on her for the entire evening. It was scandalous, dangerous, and it near always brought her over the edge into something so purely heavenly her toes curled. Ecstasy with Jughead’s name falling again and again from her lips. In her heart, she knew it would be better when he did it. If he ever did it.

“Word of advice, a checklist isn’t very wild. But it’s very you. I didn’t know Twilight Drive-In was still around? Count me in,” he beamed. “We can open the trunk, put down the seats, and curl up in the back. Like we always wanted to growing up but never had the time or money to.”

“That sounds amazing, Juggie. I look forward to it.” More than he knew. Maybe by the time that rolled around, her fantasizes wouldn’t just be that any more. Maybe there would be something real to them. Though, she doubted it would go as far as some of her more explicit ones went. Even just a kiss from him would be a dream come true.

Unable to fulfill plan A, Betty texted the group chat ‘Operation Summer Fling’ the bad news to prepare them. In just one turn, Betty and Jughead would be walking through the double doors of Pop’s Chocklit Shop and if everyone was oblivious to their standings, someone—Archie—would say saying something—Archie—that might ruin her chances—Archie.

**Betty:**

_ I chickened out. Please. PLEASE. Don’t say anything about it. It’s time for plan B. _

**Cheryl:**

_ Was B get Betty laid at Toni’s party or was B give up all hope of this working out and go on a nice relaxing spa day? _

**Archie:**

_ Don’t be mean Cheryl. Also, Betts. Who’s gonna tell? Secrets safe with us. _

**Ronnie:**

_ Oh Archiekins... _

**Kevin:**

_ You. _

**Cheryl:**

_ You. _

**Archie:**

_ I literally can’t hear you over how safe this secret is. _

**Cheryl:**

_ Prepare yourself cousin, I get the feeling you’ll be ratted out tonight. _

“Someone’s popular,” Jughead remarked. “Too bad for them it has to send as SMS because someone won’t join the hive mind and get an iPhone.”

“Here I thought if anyone was going to praise me for purposefully non-conforming it would have been you, Hipster Lite.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m beyond turned out right now.”

When he winked, Betty, for a moment, almost believed him. And then she was forced to swerve to avoid a car accident and the rest of the ride to Pop’s was relatively, gratefully, boringly uneventful.

Everyone’s cars were already parked out front, and she could see a booth filled with her friends. Luckily, they had managed to snag a corner one in the back, that allowed for six, instead of four, to be seated comfortable. She hoped, prayed, that Kevin remembered her request and left space for Jughead and Betty to sit across from each other. If she was feeling bold, there might be a game of footsie. Not that she was ever feeling bold these days.

“It looks exactly the same,” Jughead’s eyes were full of childlike glee and excitement. By the second she became more and more endeared to him.

“The food hasn’t changed either. Which I’m sure is a good thing, especially in your eyes.”

“You’re right about that. Shall we?” he offered his arm and together they walked in.

As far as Betty knew, Jughead wasn’t the biggest fan of crowds or meeting new people. It was a risk, but he hoped Archie and Kevin’s presence would ease him into the situation. Cheryl and him had never been particularly close, even bordering on antagonistic in their youth, so her being an comfort for him was far out of the question. Even though Kevin and him had never been particularly close, there was still familiarity in the room that she hoped would relax him.

Archie wrapped him in a tight hug, muffling whatever insult Jughead was whispering to him. It was playful and warmed her heart. Kevin politely shook hands and Cheryl even acknowledged him with a nod. Veronica, ever the New York City socialite, offered her hand with a sunny smile.

“Veronica Lodge. Nice to finally meet the infamous Jughead Jones the third. I have to ask, where did you get that name?”

“If I told you that, I’d have to kill you. No hard feelings.” He slid in beside Betty and she realized that maybe this situation was better.

Being next to him, so impossibly close, it felt like fire. Had her entire body ignited in flames right then and there she would not have been surprised. At least from here, he couldn’t see her blush, couldn’t see how he affected her so much with even the smallest of actions. Their hands brushed on the table. When Jughead didn’t immediately pull back, that familiar flare of hope resurfaced.

“None taken. I thought that was the response I would get. Your friends know you well.”

Looking down pointedly at Betty, he nodded. “Yeah they do. Even after such a long time. I guess I got lucky. Also, not to be an ass, but when did Cheryl start hanging around you guys?”

Cheryl rolled her eyes and plucked a French fry from the communal bucket in the center. “Not that I have to indulge you in an answer, hobo, but ever since Betty and I found ourselves to be cousins and our dear siblings were married with two adorable little munchkins to watch, we’ve become thick as thieves, isn’t that right, Elizabeth?”

With a thinly veiled threat hanging in the air, Betty nodded. “Absolutely. A lot has changed but, to be fair, a lot has stayed the same. You know Riverdale, it’s all about the status quo. No one really wants to rock the boat too much.”

“I’m sure me coming back to town and my father’s release is just the shaking up it needs.”

“I think my coming out and engagement to a Southsider did just that, but you’re welcome to try. God knows we could use a little more spice in this dreary shithole,” Cheryl remarked.

Jughead nodded, grateful when Pop set down the milkshake in front of him. They exchanged a quick hug and some quiet pleasantries before he turned back to Cheryl. “Congratulations by the way. And send my condolences to Toni. Anyone willing to deal with your gaping mouth deserves a prize.”

“Oh, trust me, I think she likes all the things my mouth can do. That’s prize enough for anyone. She’s lucky to have me.”

There verbal sparring match paused. Betty waited with baited breath and noticed everyone else did too. And then, there was laughter.

“Good to see you got yourself a soul, Cheryl. Who did you have to suck it from?”

“Good to see you still don’t have one, Jones. And I’d ask you not to insult me with the implication that I do.”

Relaxed that Jughead seemed to be getting along fine with everyone, Betty focused on her meal. Occasionally she would hear him moan beside her in ecstasy. The things Jughead did with a burger gave her nothing short of a beat red blush. Her mind wandered into a dark pit of wicked thoughts, most of which wondering what other things his mouth could do when he was moaning.

Kevin and Veronica were both fully aware of the situation, exchanging looks that only served to make her feel even more ridiculous at the situation. Veronica’s Coach heel dug into Betty’s thigh and pushed her the slightest bit closer to Jughead. The boy, if he noticed at all, didn’t appear to mind.

Most of the night was spent with him catching them up on his Toledo lifestyle. It was boring, empty, and a bit mundane. If there was nothing to do in Riverdale, there was less in small town Ohio. The only things that kept him entertained were his intense hatred of his grandparents’ dogs and the computer he kept all of his stories in.

“A regular Capote, huh? I approve.” Veronica remarked, though the last bit of her statement felt like it was directed more at Betty than Jughead.

By the end of the night, everyone was stuffed full to bursting with burgers, milkshakes, and fries and it was time to go their separate ways. Archie gave Jughead another hug, with a promise to text him later that night to set up plans—that Jughead vehemently explained he would not be following through with unless Betty could come, something that made her heart flutter probably too fast—and Cheryl threw a used napkin at him. Whatever strange comradery they had fallen into suited them both. Betty certainly wouldn’t complain. Having Cheryl on her side in this fight meant something. It wasn’t often her cousin left the battlefield without a win.

There was a comfortable silence in the car that always lingered between them. It was the silence of two people who unconditionally understood one another. Senseless chatter would have filled the space with empty, unnecessary words. This was what suited them. Just them and nothing else.

Sunnyside trailer park was exactly as she had remembered it to be. The ‘u’ in the sign was still mostly burnt out, occasionally flickering to life when it was least expected. Trash littered the park: forgotten flyers from Southside High, stomped down cigarettes, and empty cracked open cans of booze. She could tell by the shift in his demeanor that Jughead wanted to run as far away from the situation as he could. Sensing his distress, Betty insisted she accompany him to the door.

“I’ll be fine. Really. You don’t have to. It’s getting late and you probably want to head home instead of wasting your time out here with me.”

“Jug, if it’s with you it’s never wasting my time. Besides, it’ll take five minutes to make sure you make it inside and then I’ll go home, put on my cookie monster pajama shorts that you know I have because you bought them so you can’t make fun of them don’t even try, and crash rewatching season two of Stranger Things.”

Convinced, Jughead allowed her to accompany him to the front of the trailer. “A regular gentlemanly caller I have. I can’t wait to tell Pa how sweet my suitor is. I hope you’ve got the dowry prepared.”

She pushed him lightly and hoped the eerie yellow glow of the trailer masked her blush. “You’re a jokester. Do you have a key?”

“It’s been in the same place for forever. I’m surprised no one broke in while he was in prison,” Jughead reached up and plucked an old silver key off the doorframe. “Tada. My dad isn’t the brightest guy around sometimes. I got a text from him that he wouldn’t be by until late tonight, but he promised he would wake up early so we could do something together. I’m not sure I believe him, but I should at least pretend I’m hopeful, right? I should let you get to bed. You’ve probably had enough of me tonight.”

“I couldn’t ever have enough of you, Juggie. Not ever.”

“That’s comforting. Thanks.”

The light flickered, and Betty watched as a moth flew straight into the bulb, burning itself to a crisp in a suicidal Icarus attempt at flying too close to the sun. For a moment, she wondered if that was what she was doing. This attempt at wooing Jughead was flying impossibly close to the sun. There was a chance of getting burned, of ruining everything they had spent years cultivating. It was all about deciding if it was worth the risk.

As he turned the key in the lock, her hand launched forward and gripped his forearm. He turned to face in her in surprise. “What is it?”

“I um…” she swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m glad that you’re here. Back in Riverdale. I missed you like crazy and I know I can’t be the only one. Your dad did too. I’m sure of it.”

“Thanks Betts but honestly, you’re the only person I care about missing me. I’ll let you know about tomorrow. If my dad flakes you might have to put up with being my tour guide. I’m curious if they ever got the spray paint off of Picken’s statue that Jason put there when we were nine.”

“Let’s keep that a mystery for tonight. So, I know you’ll have to spend more time with me.”

Jughead took her hand and squeezed it. “Stop acting like I wouldn’t spend every minute with you if I had the chance to. Now, I’m going to steal the bed, so Dad gets the pullout couch. Visitor rules. I’m sure it smells like old moth balls in there though. Get some sleep tonight Betty, we both need it.”

“Yeah Juggie. You too.” She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. At the last second, she had chickened out again. But soon, hopefully when the alcohol was flowing, opening her mouth and saying what she meant to would be a little bit easier.

They pulled apart, fingers lingering until there was nothing but empty space between them. Betty didn’t drive off until the door to the trailer closed with a loud thunk of finality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on tumblr @tory-b, check out @bugheadfamily which I co-run, and follow @buggiebreak since we're announcing our summer festivities tomorrow! Let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty and Jughead spend the day together and a few unexpected text messages make Jughead feel a lot more hopeful for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating early becuase this BEHEMOTH of a chapter is finished. I'm warning you this is 8k. Which is literally twice the length most of these chapters are. But I got overexcited and ended up filling this chapter to the brim with really important information and story progression!
> 
> Also, you wanted more group chat, so I may or may not have caved and given you quite a bit of it <3

Jughead’s dreams were near always plagued with childhood nightmares, but tonight they featured an inexplainable rainbow, a wedding arch, and a certain blonde-haired girl dressed all in white. It was the kind of fantasy he never wanted to wake up from. He twirled her to the delicate hum of their wedding harpist, leaning down to whisper sweet nothings in her ear until she was giggling in his arms. Kiss after intoxicating kiss was shared until they wedding party gathered for a toast and food was passed out.

 

Looking down at the plate, he was perplexed to find a breakfast spread. Bacon, sunny side up eggs, a steaming cup of Pop’s black tar coffee—that definitely could keep you awake but didn’t always taste great going down. Suddenly the once delicate music was replaced with the sizzle and pop of a fry pan. When he looked to his wife beside him, she had become a platter of eggs, which, truthfully, should have been much more alarming than it was.

 

Jughead woke up with a start. It took a few minutes for him to register the change in his living arrangements. This was not the couch in Toledo he shared with two angry small dogs, but the bed of his dad’s trailer, which he had crashed in near immediately after a stressfully long drive and an entire night of sitting right beside Betty without being able to articulate his feelings or touch her with any sense of purpose.

 

Pulling up his plaid pajama pants, he carefully crept out of the room. While it was unlikely some Betty Crocker intruder had broken into their place just to fry up breakfast, the thought of his dad actually going through the trouble of being up at—he checked the clock—eight thirty am was the more preposterous explanation out of the two. In the kitchen was not a man he recognized. He was clean shaven, eyes wide and alert, humming to a tune on the radio as her cracked an egg into the greasy frying pan.

 

“Dad?” Jughead choked out. Logically, he knew it had to be, either that or this was an early morning mirage concocted from the micro fragments of hope Betty had implanted in him last night before their parting. “Are you cooking?”

 

The man turned to face him, nearly smashing the entire egg into the skillet in surprise. This was not the person who had been shoved into the back of a police cruiser. This was not the man who had slurred his last goodbyes on a prison payphone. This was not the man who had given Jughead so many paternal trust issues it was a miracle he hadn’t signed up for an online sugar daddy website. However, it was this man who terrified him, not the other.

 

At least a drunk father was a predicable one. The guy making breakfast with a cup of coffee instead of a beer in his hands was far from that. Instantly, he was building walls up again; hefty stone bricks to keep his heart at bay. Hope was not a feeling he enjoyed being attached to FP Jones. Because hope was almost always met with disappointment.

 

“Son. I, uh, I didn’t realize you were up yet. Yeah, I was just making breakfast for when you decided to rise and shine. I couldn’t remember what your favorite was, so I made a little of everything.”

 

“You…are sober.”

 

It was an inarticulate jab, and the very first thought that had come to his mind. The only thought that had come to his mind. All the others were clouded by the general sense of “what the fuck” that he was unable to shake.

 

The disbelief cut FP to the quick if his flinch was any indication, but he did not stay recoiled for long. He nodded. “Have been since I got put on a detox program in prison. It’s going pretty well. I can’t remember the last time I was up before you making breakfast.”

 

“I can.”

 

It was a bitter thought. A few weeks before Keller came kicking down their door in search of drug money, there had been a steady change in his dad’s demeanor. He was helping out around the house, picking Jellybean up from school, asking Jughead how his classes were going—things a father was supposed to. But it, like many other things FP Jones did, had been a short-lived attempt and that mickey mouse, chocolate chip pancake breakfast had served as a familial last supper.

 

They didn’t talk much as FP shuffled the plates around. Breakfast was served on the rickety old coffee table, where the baseball card Jughead had slipped under it one early Sunday morning so it would stop spilling the milk from his cereal was still wedged. Practically nothing had changed since the last time he had been here. It was a preserved relic of a painful past, like a fossil trapped in amber.

 

“So, how are your mom and Jellybean?” FP asked, effectively cutting through the awkward and stagnant early morning silence.

 

This was a loaded question if Jughead had ever looked down the barrel of one before. His mother might have skinned him alive if she indulged his father in too many of the details, since it was very obvious she had no intention of speaking to him literally ever again, but on the other hand, denying a curious father even the smallest bit of knowledge about their young daughter felt unbearably cruel. And cruel—despite how much he liked to pretend he was a badass—was not something Jughead enjoyed being.

 

“Mom is fine. JB wants to be a musician when she grows up. She started playing guitar and drums and listens to Pink Floyd on vinyl, and I don’t know how to make fun of her anymore. I caught her singing Elton John in her bedroom once and she just stared at me and kept singing. It was such a power move.”

 

FP laughed, shaking his head. “Sounds like a little spitfire. Not that I would expect any different. You were like that too at her age.” The silence crept back in. His father looked uncomfortable and spoke up again. “How’s Betty? I remember you saying you were spending some time with her last night.”

 

“It was fun. She’s great. She’s got it in her head she wants to be wild Betty this summer since her mom’s gone, so I’m here to help her out.”

 

“You sure that’s smart kid? I mean, you were carrying a torch for her when you were kids. What if it comes back?”

 

Jughead shoveled the last of the food into his mouth and stood, bringing the plate to the sink. “Don’t. Not right now. Don’t parent me and give me warnings. I can’t…not yet. Not now. Maybe one day but I need a lot more time and a lot more effort than one breakfast. Which was good by the way, so thanks. I’m taking a shower and then I’ll probably go hang out with Betty. She wanted to spend the week reintroducing me to Riverdale or something.”

 

“That’s fine,” FP’s voice sounded sad but resigned to his place. “How about dinner tonight? Once I’m off work?”

 

Work was not a topic he had ever heard his father discuss so casually. But there were many things that a simple word like “work” could mean. Drug running, gang banging, all things that violated his parole that Jughead wasn’t sure he wanted to be aware of. But the curiosity bug had bitten him.

 

“Where do you work?”

 

“At Pop’s. I was thinking maybe after you and Betty finish up your day you can meet me there and we can have dinner. She can stay too if she wants.”

 

Biting his lip, Jughead nodded. Betty, in all her good manners, was the type of person to never turn down a dinner invitation. It was like an ingrained fear that if she were to say no, Alice Cooper might appear in the mirror and strangle her through the ether. Honestly, if his mother was half as terrifying—and she was maybe only a forth as terrifying—he would be inclined to obey her house rules a little straighter than he currently did. (As it stood, the loose “10:30 curfew” she had once suggested was ignored on the regular.)

 

“I’ll ask, but who knows if she’ll have plans with Kevin or Veronica or someone. Or Cheryl. Apparently, they’ve been hanging out. Now I need to shower. I didn’t get to last night and I still smell like the depression pit that is Toledo.”

 

Quickly, he sequestered himself into the tiny trailer bathroom. At least this was far away from the strange albeit caring behavior his father was currently exhibiting. Here, in the small linoleum jail cell, Jughead felt relaxed with his own thoughts.

 

He picked up his phone to see a string of text messages waiting for him. Many of them were number he did not have saved or recognized but judging by the names Archie and Betty up on the screen, the other numbers were likely from last night’s get together. That, and the chat had been labeled “Party People” by someone who he suspected to be Kevin.

 

**Betty:**

_Do you need us to bring anything to the party Cheryl? I could make cupcakes or bread or something so no one gets sick?_

 

**Unknown (Probably Cheryl Blossom):**

_If someone doesn’t throw up it’s hardly a rager, dear Cousin. TT says “don’t let the lightweight bring her own alcohol”_

 

**Betty:**

_I am NOT a lightweight_ >:(

 

**Archie:**

_No bread we choke on our alcohol and die like men_

**Unknown (Probably Kevin Keller):**

_1) Ew, Archie. That’s gross._

_2) Are we going to just let Betty get away with the claim she isn’t a lightweight after what we all saw at homecoming last year after Reggie spiked the punch and she had two glasses unknowingly._

 

Unable to stop himself, Jughead typed a response.

 

**Jughead:**

_Was that the same night you called me crying because you cooked an entire box of ego waffles in Polly’s kitchen and couldn’t find the maple syrup? Because I remember that night. Forever._

 

**Betty:**

_JUGHEAD JONES. You did not get to rise from the dead and attack me like this._

_Also, why are you up so early?_

 

**Jughead:**

_My dad’s gone all Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Woke up to him frying pancakes and asking me about mom and JB and Toledo. I was just about to text you. After I shower can you come pick me up?_

 

**Unknown (Probably Cheryl Blossom):**

_Try as much as you want, it’s impossible to wash the stench of hobo from your bones._

 

**Jughead:**

_Thanks for the unsolicited advice, Queen of the Damned, I’ll make sure to inform the skeleton army at your disposal how bad your zingers are._

 

**Unknown (Probably Cheryl Blossom):**

_When I drink you under the table on Friday would you like your grave stone marked ‘gave up like the little bitch he is’ or ‘died sexually frustrated’?_

 

Jughead’s relationship with alcohol was confusing on the best of days. As a seventeen-year-old boy, there had been instances of a stolen beer with the few High School level friends he had, but for the most part they would park in an empty lot and hot box during school hours like the archetypical stoner he had been labeled as.

 

Alcoholism was a disease. Being the son of an alcoholic, he knew how susceptible he was to falling down into the same traps that had caught his father. But there was no sirens song luring him into rocky waters. No addictive numbing from a bitter brew. The occasional night of summer binge drinking was a calculated risk he was willing to take. Especially if it meant knocking Cheryl off her high horse and potentially being uninhibited enough to finally make a move on Betty Cooper.

 

**Jughead:**

_Betty already knows I want a Tarantino quote on my grave stone but an “I’m with stupid” pointing in either your or Archie’s direction works well too._

 

**Archie:**

_Dude wtf_

 

**Jughead:**

_There are causalities of every war, Archibald. You fought bravely. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten._

 

**Unknown (Probably Veronica Lodge):**

_Be nice children._

**Betty:**

_Jug, I can be there in thirty minutes if you want. We can go play around in the thrift stores in the town center like we used to when we were kids!_

 

**Jughead:**

_Sounds perfect, Betts. Thanks for saving me. Love you._

 

**Betty:**

_Love you too, Juggie <3_

 

Exchanging of “I love you” was not an uncommon occurrence between them. Without fail his heart fluttered a little too quickly. He knew it was unrealistic to hope that maybe she meant it in the same ways that he did, but as with all things Betty Cooper touched in his life, hope permeated through his determined-to-be-sour demeanor. Where he was a dark night’s sky, she was the stars twinkling by the moon.

 

Hoping to sear his skin clean, Jughead stepped into the burning hot shower. The steady thunder of water droplets on his back helped calm the anxiety brewing in the pit of his stomach. His mother had yet to text him. It was a childish power play that he knew well from years of feuding with her. Most days, he would have to reach out and apologize for whatever it is she perceived wrong just to keep the upset in their home to a minimum. Not this summer. She could sit and stew in her anger, letting the bitterness rot her all the way through if she wanted to.

 

The day before he had hopped on the bus they had fought. That night was one of their worst, with little Jellybean locked in her room with her music as high as it would go to drown out the sound. The dogs barked, biting at Jughead’s heels, and his grandparents scolded him until his ears bled. It was a cacophonous assault on his “bad decisions”.

 

_“You go back there, and you’ll end up just like him Jughead! You think I don’t see it? That you’re already becoming more and more like that man by the day. I get the calls from the school you know. Truant six days in the last month? Were you getting high with that girl Trula Twyst again? You know I hate her.”_

_One of his few friends in Toldeo, Trula Twyst was a parental nightmare. Too smart for her age, determined to become the next BF Skinner, and rolling joints she sold for top notch out of the back of her station wagon, they had quickly hit it off. And maybe hitting it off involved a few high as a kite kisses, but none of them really mattered. She was married to her future and well, he would be hung up on Betty Cooper until the day he died._

_“Maybe if you stopped fucking assuming we wouldn’t be having these arguments. I wouldn’t be skipping class to avoid dealing with your bullshit about my grades and how I’m failing just like him. And Trula is my friend. We’re friends, I know you’ve never had one before though so maybe it’s a foreign concept.”_

_“I am your mother, Jughead. Don’t you dare speak like that to me again!”_

_“Act like one and I’ll treat you like one! Dad went to jail and I ended up in one too, only my mom is the hardass Warden who hates me!”_

_She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “Enough. You aren’t going back to Riverdale. I won’t allow it.”_

_“You don’t have to allow it,” he tossed the last of his things in the suitcase. “I’m going. Call the cops to come stop me if you’re that determined too. I’m spending the summer with Betty. Away from here. And maybe I’ll stay there, spend senior year in Riverdale with my convict father. Maybe I’ll join the Serpents while I’m at it. Knock up some girl, commit a few felonies, and then watch as she leaves with my kids. Since you’re so sure it’s going to happen, maybe I’ll live my life just like that. I’m leaving.”_

_“And where are you going to spend the night? Certainly not here if you’re going to act so ungrateful.” He could hear the tears in her eyes. This always happened these days. They would scream at each other until the neighbors stomped over or a noise complaint was filed._

_He threw the backpack over his shoulders. “Maybe the bus stop. Maybe Trula’s place. Anywhere away from here. Call me if you want when I get to Riverdale. If you even do. If not it’s fine. I’ve basically been an orphan my entire life so making it official will only sting a little.”_

 

He hadn’t heard from her since slamming the door and it was starting to weigh heavy on his mind. When they fought, Gladys would normally call within the first few days and apologize. It wasn’t his job to be an adult, to be a parent—that’s what he kept telling himself anyway.

 

Out of the shower, Jughead dried off and quickly got dress. Betty texted him, saying she was outside and waiting. With a wave goodbye to his father—who was further perplexing Jughead by sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee, filling out a _crossword puzzle_ like an actual parental figure—he was out the door.

 

“Juggie! Hey,” she greeted him with a tight hug. “Hop in. I’m ready for today.”

 

“Trust me you have no idea.”

 

Betty frowned, pulling out of Sunnyside and heading off towards the direction of the thrift shop in old downtown Riverdale. She reached out and squeezed his hand. “You okay? Other than the dad stuff I mean, which I imagine is probably pretty hard to deal with.”

 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just thinking about my mom. We didn’t exactly leave on the best note. One of those things where her calling the cops and dragging me back to Toledo or not speaking to me the entirety of summer vacation are both chips on the table.”

 

“Oh God was it that bad?”

 

“Pretty sure it could be described as a Fred Kruger Nightmare on Elm Street because yeah it was that bad. She almost didn’t let me come. This stuff always happens. She doesn’t seem to realize there’s a fine line between dictator and mother and she has her foot firmly on the fascist side of things.”

 

“I’m sorry, Juggie. That’s terrible. Seriously you don’t deserve that. Your mom can’t see how special you are and I guess that’s her lost. One more year and you can jet set out of Ohio.”

 

Always sympathetic to his plight, Betty nodded. If there was one thing—on a long list of things—that they could bond over most, it was the trouble with mothers. Alice had set her daughter on a straight forward trajectory towards perfection and Gladys was so fixated on the past she was refusing to let him look forward. Both, in short, were not very good at their job.

 

The phone inside of Betty’s cupholder vibrated loudly. “Can you grab that for me? See if it’s my mom or Polly.”

 

Jughead picked up her Samsung—with only a small protest about how terrible it was—and scrolled through the long list of messages. At first, given the names present, he assumed it to be the Party People group chat he had silenced a before stepping into the shower. And then he saw the name: Operation Summer Fling. Curious, he read the first couple.

 

**Cheryl:**

_How is Plan B coming along?_

 

**Veronica:**

_Judging from the radio silence on both ends I’m assuming well._

 

**Archie:**

_Shit no not yet I want my $20_

 

**Cheryl:**

_For once, Archibald, this does not involve you or your pocket money. Buy condoms with your allowance like a normal boy._

 

**Archie:**

_You’re just saying that because you said one week maximum_

 

**Cheryl:**

_Don’t make me drive to your house and choke you with the strap of your guitar_

 

Curious, Jughead began typing away guesses at Betty’s password. Not Polly’s birthday. Not her birthday. Not _his_ birthday—not that his lock screen was Betty’s birthday or anything. He had more self-respect than that. It was the day they’d first met.

 

“What are you doing there, Jones?” she laughed, eyes on the road like the good and responsible driver Alice Cooper had trained her to be. “Did my mom text me at all?”

 

“No, it was Archie and the gang. Question, what’s your phone password?”

 

“It’s 2-6-3-7-6-6-3-3-…wait. Why are you asking?”

 

Casually, he answered, “You’re getting texts from something called Operation Spring Break and I’m nosy.”

 

The car jolted as she practically slammed on her breaks. “NO! NO don’t…don’t you don’t…nothing is in there. Nothing is in Operation Spring Break it’s just…Kevin trying to get laid! That’s all it is. We started a bet to um…to see how long it would take him. He’s got a crush on one of Toni’s friends Fangs, so we’ve been trying to set them up on a date. We’re on Plan B because Fangs is kind of oblivious is all.”

 

“Right.” He didn’t exactly believe her, but whatever secret was hidden away in her phone would have to wait for another time. Maybe when she was lying on their makeshift floor bed tonight, fast asleep, he could guess the remaining digit and pat himself on the back for being a hacker. “Okay. We’re going to pretend I believe that bad lie because we’re pulling into the thrift shop now and I don’t really want to argue with you.”

 

“Thank you for respecting the last shred of my dignity. You’re a good name, Jones.”

 

“I try my best.”

 

That familiar bitter taste of jealousy prickled at his nerves. Whatever it was she was lying about, well he wasn’t a part of it, and Jughead had been a part of her everything. His thoughts wandered away from his grasp, drifting to things that made his stomach twist in painful knots and heart beat threaten to go full Olympic runner.

 

Archie Andrews was a foe he could handle. If Betty was still holding a torch for him, well at least Jughead could say he would fight a good fight against the ginger Adonis. He was a competitor that made sense. Brutish, simple, and sluggish. If it came down to a battle of wits for Betty’s affections, Jughead knew he would win. If it came down to fisticuffs…well, he was scrappy certainly. But a mysterious face without a name acting as the barrier between him and the woman he loved was too much.

 

Without a name to stalk on Instagram or Facebook, he wouldn’t be able to accurately access his competition. This was the definition of flying blind. Jughead shook his head and pushed forward the last of his lingering rationality. Betty was a terrible liar, but maybe this lie had nothing to do with a mystery guy and everything to do with protecting one of her friend’s secrets. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t be breaking into her phone later to look.

 

At the thrift shop, Jughead tried to enjoy himself. It was one of their tried and true activities growing up, when money was tight for him—not that it wasn’t now, but at least it wasn’t flushed weekly down the Whyte Wyrm’s drain on whiskey and cigarettes—and Betty desperately needed an escape from her overbearing mother. The Lucky Find was the only second-hand store in Riverdale and it might as well have been a portal to Narnia. As kids, it absolutely had been.

 

There was still an old wardrobe stuffed in the back, with a giant chain around it and a “not for sale” sign written in faded red sharpie on a drooping cardboard cutout. More than once, he had gotten himself locked in there during a game of hide and seek. Behind the counter was a slightly older version of the gentleman who colored his early years with war time stories and games of treasure hunt—where he would give Betty and Jughead a description of an object in the store and send them off to find it—to keep them distracted on rainy days. His once black hair was streaked salt and pepper, but not much else about him had changed. The same outdated bellbottoms, jean vest, and wire rim glasses.

 

“Good to see you Jughead. Been a few minutes hasn’t it?” Mr. Parson nodded his direction before opening back up his thick black notebook.

 

“Try a few years, but yeah it has. I’ve missed this place. Business going good?”

 

“Business comes and goes like the people and families who live here, my boy. Not much use chasing the money when I can enjoy what I have here. Don’t get yourself locked in that closet again. Pretty sure I lost the key last April.”

 

“I think I’m a bit too big to be hiding in it, but I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” As they ascended the first flight of stairs towards the clothing, Jughead laughed. “Good to see Mr. Parson is still the interdimensional alien we always thought he was.”

 

Betty shook her head, giggling to herself. “He hasn’t changed it all. It’s crazy. There was a fire a few years back and his was the only shop that didn’t burn down. Pretty sure he’s practicing witchcraft in his spare time too.”

 

“When we get old, can we be as cool as that?”

 

“You want to be a dimension hoping shop keep with a knack for environmental magic?”

 

“Why not? As long as you’re by my side I think we can pretty much do anything.”

 

If he didn’t know any better, Jughead might have guessed she was blushing.

 

Once upstairs they began rifling through the clothes scattered throughout. There was a vintage leather jacket Jughead couldn’t take his eyes off of. He plucked it from the shelves along with a pair of aviator sunglasses and slipped them on. Betty had found a few of her own goodies.

 

She stepped inside of the changing booth and came out sporting a yellow plaid miniskirt and shoulder padded jacket set. Had he not felt his breathing speed had exponentially increased, Jughead might have thought his heart had stopped while he was staring at her. Even in a 1980s travesty, she still looked show stopping.

 

“Very Cher Horowitz of you, Betts.”

 

She laughed, “I’m honestly impressed you know that movie, Crybaby Jones.” There was an old poodle skirt in her peripheral, embroidered with cherries that would fit perfectly alongside Cheryl’s wardrobe. She slipped it on over the plaid and twirled for him. “Take me to the sock hop and buy me a soda pop, Daddy-o?”

 

Downstairs, Jughead heard the record player scratch as the vinyl started anew. An old 1950s classic by none other than Jerry Lee Lewis. Betty’s eyes lit up and she grabbed his hand, spinning into his arms.

 

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain. Too much love drives a man insane,” he heard Mr. Parson sing along.

 

Had it been any other time, any other moment, the irony would have made jughead laugh out loud. But as it were, all that mattered to him was the girl in his arms. She giggled when he fumbled back, catching her before she knocked into a rack of clothes. The beat carried them around the loft. He had never called himself much of a dancer, but boy could Betty Cooper make him shake, rattle, and roll.

 

“Well kiss me baby, woo-oo, it feels good. Hold me baby, I want to love you like a lover should.”

 

The aviator glasses landed somewhere among the scattered stacks of clothes, knocked off from the force of Betty’s launch into his own arms. Her legs kicked out as they spun. She held his arms tightly until she was firmly planted on the group again. A few hand jives and an Elvis Presley hip thrust later, and the record skipped to its end.

 

“Come on baby, you drive me crazy. Goodness gracious great balls of fire!”

 

Breath uneven from laughter and messy dance moves, Jughead looked down at a flushed Betty and felt his knees turn to jelly. He brushed the fallen locks of hair from her eyes and smiled down at her. Silence consumed them. Tangible between them was something foreign and palpable—sexual tension.

 

“I’m locking up soon kiddos,” Mr. Parson hollered from down below, effectively breaking them apart. “Come down to pay if you found anything.”

 

Betty took a step back, pulling on his leather lapels. “That looks good on you, Danny Zuko. Maybe you should keep it.”

 

“I think you and I both know I’d make a horrible gang member. Help me pick out a few vinyl to bring back to JB and then we can go pick up some ice cream?”

 

Jughead had never hated an old man as much as he did the ethereal entity that was Mr. Parson. Had he not been quickly afraid of a hex being sent his way, he might have cursed him under his breath. When they left, the sign switched to closed.

 

“I swore I just momentarily watched it flicker out of existence.”

 

Betty rolled her eyes and unlocked her car. “Don’t be silly Juggie. He’d never let us catch him. Now come on. I’m craving a vanilla soft serve with rainbow sprinkles. If we’re going old school today we’re going all out.”

 

As they pulled up to the old-fashioned ice cream parlor, Jughead’s phone started to ring. He looked down at the collar ID and groaned. _Incoming call from Gladys Jones_. Now was not the time or the place to deal with their explosion, but without closure it would be bothering him for the rest of his trip. This wasn’t supposed to be about home troubles or parental dysfunction—it was about him and Betty and finally opening his heart up to her.

 

“It’s my mom.”

 

“Answer it. Don’t give me that look, you know you should. Ignoring her won’t solve any of your problems. I’ll be inside with the ice cream once you’re done.”

 

Jughead stepped out of the car and found a quiet spot close to an alleyway just in case the conversation spiraled out of his control. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself before answering the call.

 

“Mom. Hey. What’s up?”

 

Surprisingly, she didn’t sound upset, or even bitter like was her normal attitude with him. “Just wanted to ask if you made it into Riverdale okay, but I’m assuming from the Instagram post Betty tagged you in last night you did. Why did you text me?”

 

“I was under the impression we weren’t really speaking after everything that happened. You all but kicked me out of the house, remember?”

 

Gladys sighed. “You know I didn’t mean it, Jug. I shouldn’t have yelled like I did.”

 

“That’s the problem though. You always say you shouldn’t have yelled and then you always end up yelling again. Look, I get it. Things are rough at home right now. Living with your parents isn’t exactly easy on anyone, and they’ve never liked me. Fine. Whatever. But you’re my mom. You’re supposed to help me climb to bigger and better places, not assume that I’m a useless failure who’s incapable of anything positive.”

 

“I never meant it like that. You know I didn’t,” her voice broke and he could hear the tears on the other end of the line. He bit his tongue to keep from sighing. “I’m sorry. Maybe you should come home, and we can figure it out.”

 

“I’m not coming home until the end of the summer, when I have a bus ticket that will get me in a week before school starts. It doesn’t matter what you say, how you say it, or how much you cry. Just let me enjoy this.”

 

“Fine, Jughead. Fine. At least remember to call and check up every now and again. And make sure to text your sister. She misses you and loves you.” She paused. “And I do too. You know, that right? Despite everything?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah I do know that.”

 

“Good. That’s good. Are you at least having fun? How um…how is your father?”

 

The shift in topic surprised him. As far as Jughead knew, Gladys was perfectly content never hearing a word positive or negative about FP’s life post incarceration. Or while incarcerated. Really, as far as he knew, she never wanted to hear his name uttered by anyone but her for the rest of her life.

 

“Fine,” he replied, more guarded than he had intended to be. “He made pancakes this morning. Which was weirdly nice. Or nicely weird. Maybe both.”

 

“Just be careful, Juggie. I don’t want you getting hurt. You know how your father gets. He tries to be better, but he ends up falling off the wagon and relapsing. I’m scared that with you being there alone, I won’t be able to protect you from him when it happens. Because it’s a when, not an if with people like him. Stay guarded.”

 

_Stay Guarded._ Not exactly typical motherly advice, but he appreciated her effort all the same. It was important to keep in mind, even though he wished it wasn’t.

 

“I will. Now I have to go. Betty got soft serve for us and I can tell it’s going to start melting if I don’t hop in there and get it.”

 

“Alright, J. Enjoy your day with her. I know how much it means for you to have this time. Remember what I said. About your dad and about Jellybean. And about me. I love you, even when I’m terrible at showing it. One day I’ll get better.”

 

“I’m sure you will. Bye, Mom. Love you too.”

 

Hanging up was a flood of release, a tidal wave of relaxation as he let his shoulders slump. As much as they would never admit it—especially Gladys—his parents were far more alive than they realized. Both emotional cripples who had passed that unfortunate familial gene onto their youngest son, instilling him with a crippling level of self-doubt, the emotional capacity of an overflowing table spoon, and social skills of an overripe turnip. They had both been too young, mentally, physically, the whole thing, to deal with another living being, let alone one who needed a somewhat functional and stable environment.

 

From the window, he could see Betty playing chicken with drips of the vanilla soft serve, licking them up only when they reached the edge of the cone. Jughead could have stood there and watched her face scrunched up in concentration all day. She looked over, catching him, and waved him in. In front of his seat was a bowl filled with his favorites: Oreos, gummy worms, and even two extra cherries. It was a feast fit for a king—or a bitter seventeen-year-old.

 

“How was that?” she asked, finally taking a lick off the side of her sprinkles and crème.

 

Jughead shrugged. “Not as bad as I thought it would be. Normal mom stuff. But, listen, I don’t really want to go home tonight. Do you mind if I crash at your place? We can do movie fort, blankets, and popcorn if that sounds alright? I know it’s probably earlier than you were planning on having me, but after that I’m not in the mood to face my dad.”

 

“Any time is a good time to have you over, Juggie.” When she reached over and grabbed his hand tightly, he almost believed her.

 

Once the soft serve had melted down into sprinkle soup and the rest of their old stomping ground had been explored, Betty and Jughead made their way back to FP’s trailer to pick up a few things for a proper sleepover. It was there he remembered his promise to his father about at least asking Betty if she wanted to have dinner with the two of them at Pop’s.

 

“Of course, I do!” She insisted, with all the believability she could muster. “It’ll be fun to see your dad again.”

 

“Fun is a word I would not have chosen to use, but sure let’s go with that.

 

They threw two old pillows, a large comforter, and Jughead’s duffle bag into the back of her car before driving down to where the North met the South at Pop’s Chock’lit Shop. Two nights in a row at the cozy little diner made Riverdale feel a lot more like home again. Growing up, he would scrounge up money from between couch cushions just to get enough for him and JB to share a chocolate malt, so she wouldn’t cry listening to their parents fight for the seventh night in a row.

 

Behind the counter was his father. Dressed in a bow tie and soda jerk hat was a far cry from the cracked leather and slicked back hair of his childhood. The contrast was startling. He grabbed Betty’s hand for reassurance and together they took a seat across from him at the bar.

 

FP’s face lit up. “Betty Cooper. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. Look at you, all grown up. You look a lot like your mom did at your age. Better hair though. Don’t tell her I said that,” he winked.

 

Charming, like a man peddling snake oil, that’s what Gladys always said. Jughead believed her. His dad could rub together a wry word and a wink and conjure just about anything out of thing air—anything but a shorter prison sentence. The hefty middle-aged man had not been so easily fooled by his dad’s smoke and mirrors.

 

“Cross my heart and hope to die, keep the secret until I die,” she promised. It was something they used to whisper to each other when there were secrets to silly to share. Only Betty knew he was the one who ruined Archie’s Lion King DVD from a case of greasy fingers, and only Jughead knew that she at all the cookies off her mom’s plate and blamed it on Betty. “You’re looking good, Mrs. Jones.”

 

“Sobriety suits me better than I thought,” he laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not quite down here but I can get Pop to make you kids a milkshake if you like?”

 

“We just had ice cream but…we could probably split a shake, right Juggie?”

 

When she batted her eyes like that, he would be just about willing to pluck the stars right out of the sky for her. A few minutes later they were splitting a double Oreo fudge with two bendy straws. It was a picture straight out of a 1950s picture show had she still been sporting that nifty poodle skirt. Jughead let his mind wander, to a faraway past where they would meet, and life wouldn’t be one speed bump after another in their relationship. If he didn’t have to keep slowing down for life, maybe he would have caught up to her by now.

 

Would they spin each other dizzy during dance marathons like at the thrift shop? Or would it be Grease street races and shared soda pops at double features at the drive-in? He imagined across from them would be Archie, wearing a big ‘A’ sweater vest, and Veronica, with her pearls and winning smile. Life would be far simpler than it was right now.

 

Loud chatter snapped him out of his day dream. Betty and FP were talking about something he could only catch the tail end of. It sounded like baseball: pitches, hits, steals, whatever else it was that kept a game like that going. Sports were not his thing, but at least they found some comradery in exchanging stats.

 

“So, what are the plans for tonight?” FP asked, setting down their burgers and Jughead’s extra side of fries.

 

Betty stared at him blinking. Whatever lie she was attempting to concoct in her innocent little mind was not worth the embarrassment of his dad trying to keep a straight face to believe her. So Jughead answered for them. “I’m going to spend the night at Betty’s. Which we aren’t telling her mom.”

 

“Oh? And what am I supposed to say to your mom if she calls?”

 

Jughead choked on his fry and Betty was forced to pat his back to dislodge the ketchup offender. “I’m sorry you’ve been talking to mom?”

 

“If you can call a threat talking to yeah. She told me to keep you save and if you didn’t come back with all the pieces you left with she’d drive to Riverdale and ‘skin my rattlesnake hide’ herself. Your mom is one hell of a woman. That attitude explains why I married her.”

 

“Spare me the details. Just lie if she calls. That’s got to be something you’re good at by now.”

 

He wasn’t sure why, but the thought of his parents on speaking turns made his stomach church. Before, there was always a clear divide in his life, an easy way to label things. Father: prison, distant, uncertain, bad. Mother: prison, close, certain, tolerable. With the two overlapping, he feared a Ragnarok like Armageddon.

 

“Have a good night, Dad. I’ll see you tomorrow probably.” Gripping Betty’s hand, he pulled her from the diner, leaving the rest of the shake to melt away, uneaten cherry sinking straight to the bottom.

 

In the car, Jughead was met with silence. He sighed to fill the emptiness. “Don’t do that. You know why I did what I did.”

 

“I didn’t say anything. I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

 

“Yeah you do! You’re doing it now. Where you sit in silence and act coy while I contemplate the errors of my ways without any input from you.” Silence. “I can’t help but be bitter. After everything that happened it’s going to take time for me to warm up.” A cricket hummed outside. “But maybe I should try and give him a chance. Even just…a day out together as father and son. Or we can stay at home and watch a movie together. Something to get us talking in a way that’s not so awkward and stunted.” He glared at her sunny smile. “You just did it again.”

 

“There is nothing wrong with silently guiding you to the destination I think is best, Juggie. If it makes you happier, healthier, and in a better place, then I see no harm in a little nudge.”

 

Despite his best attempts not to, Jughead laughed. “You’re like a coyote, Cooper.”

 

“Don’t they eat snakes?” she started up her engine and pulled out of the Pop’s driveway, speeding off in the direction of her home.

 

Under his breath, he muttered. “All the more fitting.”

 

If his home had been a relic of the past, the Cooper’s was a fond love letter to it. Decorating the halls in matching black pictures frames were photos of fake sunny smiles and dying childhood dreams. The furniture in the living room had moved a few inches to the left, but other than that it was identical, right down to the small purple stain on the rug that had been a result of grape juice accident none of them dared to admit fault to (it was Archie).

 

Upstairs, Betty’s room had gone from ‘baby’s first room’ to ‘Barbie’s sweet sixteen dream home’. It was easy to tell what had been her decision and what had been Alice’s. Accolades and trophies hung on any bare space, squished between posters of her favorite bands and old movie reels Jughead had framed and sent her when the Toledo theatre had decided to stop showing them. He barely had time to toss his things on the frilly pink comforter before being dragged down into the basement.

 

The Cooper’s basement had been as intrinsic in his formative years as the Andrew’s treehouse or the bus he’d nearly caught on fire outside of Riverdale Elementary—that was a Juvi stint he still didn’t think he deserved. Many nights had been spent curled up on blowup mattresses under worn sheets. They had first watched The Poltergeist here. During a Halloween Betty had a bad flu and wasn’t allowed out trick-or-treating, Jughead had showed up on her front steps with a handful of movies and a ginger-ale to settle her stomach. While the rest of the town frolicked, they got their ghoulish delights on the classics. He would never forget how tight she had clung to him when the iconic clown scene happened or the way his heart nearly beat out of his chest.

 

“What’s up first?” Betty asked. She had procured a few of their favorites—not original film but a Blu-Ray would be good enough.

 

Popcorn popped, Jughead was too busy salting and buttering their treat to care much in the way of movies. He had picked the top three contenders, so it was all down to Betty’s whims. After a small argument, Pulp Fiction was slipped in and she was curled up into his side. Three movies later and the popcorn was gone. In a nervous fit, he had scarfed it all up. Now his hands were far too much a mess to be touching Betty in the way he wanted to. A movie night was the perfect time to make his move and he had gone and made himself a pig.

 

When the credits rolled, he excused himself to the bathroom. Jughead washed his hands and splashed some water on his face before laying in for a pep talk.

 

“You can do this Jones. You want her. She might want you, but you’ll never know unless you figure your shit out and just try and kiss her. Worst case scenario you…get on a bus to Toledo and never speak of this horrific experiment again. Best case scenario you’re kissing Betty Cooper.”

 

Successfully encouraged, Jughead walked back into the basement, only to find her curled around his pillow, fast asleep like an angel fallen straight from a gothic vision. He laughed at his luck before helping her under the covers. Beside her, he spotted her phone, buzzing furiously as messages poured in from ‘Operation Spring Fling’. He’d nearly forgotten.

 

**Cheryl:**

_This is both mentally and physically exhausting. Cousin, if you don’t make a move, nothing will ever happen._

 

**Archie:**

_I actually agree with Cheryl this time. You gotta just…grab life by the dick and go with it sometimes._

 

**Kevin:**

_I’m sorry grab who and do what now?_

 

**Cheryl:**

_Reign it in Keller. We’re focusing on Betty’s thirst not yours._

 

**Veronica:**

_Betty??? Are you ignoring us again??_

_V??_

_Helllllooooo??_

**Archie:**

_We’re just trying to support you. Or I am. Ignore everyone else. Kevin and Veronica have a bet going and Cheryl’s just mean. I’m here for your happiness._

_Added bonus would be $20._

_So, if you could chicken out until the party that would be great._

**Kevin:**

_Let it be known that today, Archie Andrews saved chivalry._

**Archie:**

_Veronica hit me._

**Cheryl:**

_Dear fucking God I think she fell asleep on us._

 

**Kevin:**

_Betty if you ended up falling asleep before you could ride him like the majestic stallion he is…_

Jughead’s blood went cold. Or maybe it went hot. He shuffled around in his memory in hopes of finding wherever he’d shoved the numbers Betty had given him to her password. There it was, that pesky little thing called hop bubbling up under his skin again. Surely this had…it had to be about him. There was no one else they could be talking about.

 

But assumptions were not his area of expertise. Assumptions always almost ended with someone getting burned. No one had said his name and whatever code she had plugged into her phone was impossible to decipher, especially with the screen screaming at him that he was locked out for the next hour and fifteen minutes.

 

Right at the top of his heart, the delightful ray of hope bubbled, waiting to spill over. Maybe, just maybe, his pipe dream loving Betty and getting loved back wasn’t as wildly fantastical as he had always thought. A Toni’s party, he just might get a chance to kiss her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any guesses as to what Betty's password is? I promise it's not random and will come up later on in the plot! Hope you guys enjoyed all of this!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @tory-b!
> 
> (Also if you have the chance, check out the events I'm helping to host with @stark and @theheavycrown on tumblr @buggiebreak!)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party you've all been waiting for finally gets underway, and it's a lot more exciting than you'd expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter isn't near as long as the last one, I hope you'll forgive me! But I had a blast writing it. I'm glad so many people are enjoying it! Truthfully, this was kind of supposed to be the last chapter, but with so much support for the fic it's developed a life of it's own and I feel like I have more story to tell! I hope none of you mind!! (Also, peep that rating change)

With each day, the date of Toni’s party crept closer and closer, until it was Thursday night and Betty could see Friday looming just over the horizon and her heart wouldn’t stop beating like she had just chugged four red bulls and a forty-eight-hour energy—and yes, she did know what that felt like and yes it was because she stayed up too late studying for finals and yes Jughead had never let her live it down. Her heart felt a lot like that, maybe worse. Every few seconds she would run and check her phone to see if he had messaged her. Every few seconds, she would be a bit disappointed. 

After their impromptu sleepover and movie session, Jughead had seem different, off, like he was hiding something. It didn’t seem bad. On the contrary, she might have described him as flying, like Peter Pan after a shot of pixie dust, if that didn’t feel inappropriately cliché for someone as contrary as Jughead liked to be in his daily life. It was like some giant switch had flipped from off to on. When she was making breakfast for him that morning, Betty swore he looked like he was going to kiss her.

_She was standing over the stove, frying the bacon to the right kind of crispiness. He had lectured her a few times already. The bacon looked burnt. That bacon wiggled too much. It would have been bordering on irritating if it was anyone but him._

_“You’re lucky you’re still new. Otherwise I’d hit you with the pan and tell you to do it yourself.”_

_The bacon slid off of the greased-up pan and onto the green ceramic plate. It made its home between the scrambled eggs—extra cheese—and carefully flipped flapjacks. Betty was proud of her breakfast, how nicely everything had turned out. Maybe it was showing off a bit. He’d only had Pop’s since coming back and even at home it wasn’t often he talked about a non-restaurant style food. Unless, of course, it was his grandma’s casserole, which he hated with approximately the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns._

_“Well with your mom’s not around, someone has to spend their days nagging you, or you might forget what it’s like to feel constantly inadequate.”_

_She nearly dropped the pan on his hands, but a voice in her head—it definitely sounded like Veronica—scolded her and gave a reminder to “follow the plan”. Burning her crush with bacon grease probably went very much outside the parameters of Operation Summer Fling._

_That morning, she had woken up to a flurry of text messages, all with varying degrees of frustration at her ineptitude. Sometimes, Betty wished she could explain that yes, she too was upset and didn’t understand why she wasn’t just kissing him. Kevin had made her blush. Kissing him was one thing, but losing her virginity to Jughead Jones? Well that was an entirely different set of late night dreams that had recently been plaguing her thoughts. But that’s what this summer was for: experimentation. Maybe that meant getting hammered at her third cousin’s future wife’s party and maybe that meant spreading her legs in the back of a pickup truck so Jughead could properly see just how much of a woman she had grown into over the last few years._

_“Penny for your thoughts?” Jughead asked, snatching the crispier piece of bacon from her plate. She stole his sliced apple in retribution—not that it would Mr. I Don’t Eat Fruit Unless It’s a Holiday And Even Then I’d Rather Not._

_Betty thought for a moment before shaking her head. “Just nervous about the party. I’ve never done something like this and I can’t help but worry I’m going to do something incredibly stupid.”_

_“Trust me. You will.”_

_“Thanks for the vote of confidence!”_

_Jughead took a drink of his chocolate milk and rolled his eyes. “I mean everyone does something incredibly stupid at parties. If we don’t see Archie throw up and then keep drinking twice than it’s hardly a party. But, if you do anything too stupid, I promise I’ll help bail you out.”_

_Once again, she found herself incredibly grateful for her best friend. Not many people who were self-proclaimed party haters would attend one simply because she’d batted her eyelashes and promised him a million hugs and summer breakfasts just to make it up to him. It probably helped that him and Cheryl had developed a friendly— or maybe not? —rivalry that would keep him occupied out of the crowded dance scene. If she asked nicely, she might get him to dance with her. The thought made her blush._

_“Thanks, Juggie. Have I ever told you that you’re the best?”_

_“Maybe. But I always like an early morning ego boost.”_

_Despite her protests, Jughead had offered to help her with the dishes. Together, they worked quickly to get things washed, soapy water flying around when she couldn’t help but splash him like a child. She grabbed the lotion from the wrack and coated her hands in it. Realizing she had too much, Betty took his and gently began rubbing the pomegranate-grapefruit moisturizer into his calloused hands._

_The air was thick again, like it had been when they were dancing in the other dimensional thrift shop. She heard his sharp intake of breath and felt her body stiffen. He moved closer and she did too, until they were inches apart. And then, like some cruel God was enjoying throwing a dash of romantic comedy misery into her like, his phone started to ring. They jumped apart and he ran quickly to answer._

_Whatever conversation he had was hushed and made his eyebrows knit together in frustration. He hung up without a proper goodbye and shook his head. “I have to go. Dad mentioned something about wanting to have breakfast with me.”_

_“The Jughead I know would never turn down second breakfast, even if it is with his estranged father. Go. Have fun. Or try to.”_

_“For you, Betty, anything.”_

They’d spent time together again on Wednesday, but not for half as long as either of them had wanted to. Polly needed a babysitter, and Jellybean had insisted upon a FaceTime call with her brother that, according to him, lasted well into the early morning hours, as she recounted her junior softball victory and played a few cords for him on the guitar. At least this weekend would be uninterrupted. She had every intention of bringing him home after the party, even if it was just for movies and hangover remedies.

Before bed, she checked her phone one last time. Operation Summer Fling was in full force as her friends used their last available day of proper planning. It felt like they were preparing for war and tomorrow was D-Day.

**Veronica:**

Right so we all have our assignments?

**Kevin:**

Archie and I are spending some quality ‘bro time’ with Jughead before we take him, separately from Betty, to the party.

**Cheryl:**

I’ll make sure there’s plenty of alcohol and Betty is well socially lubricated before she arrives.

**Betty:**

Please never say it like that again.

 **Veronica:**  
Perfection! And then I’m helping Betty get all dolled up at Chez Cooper where we’ll indulge in some bubbly to calm her nerves, complete with a few pep talks to get her prepared for a stellar confession.

 **Archie:**  
Not to be that guy but like…if you just kiss him you don’t need to use like…words and stuff.

**Kevin:**

Archie, you have always and will always be ‘that guy’.

**Veronica:**

He talks more with his body than his words! Not everyone is a wordsmith like Jughead. For the record, I love Archiekins just the way he is.

**Archie:**

Ily2 baby

**Cheryl:**

A modern-day Jane Austen novel, truly.

**Archie:**

Cheryl that’s not fair you know I never read those books for English so I don’t know what that means

**Kevin:**

Every day I interact with Archie I wonder how I ever found him hot. And don’t let it go to your head. We were all shocked by your Adonis like summer transformation from geeky ginger to hot stud.

**Archie:**

Ah hell yes Kevin thinks I’m a stud!

**Veronica:**

You are a stud <3

**Kevin:**

I instantly regret everything 

As the night dragged on and no sleep found her, Betty called Polly to try and settle her nerves. She’d been up late these last few days studying for some of her college finals. Her older sister had plans of being a nurse one day, a noble profession that Betty thought fit her well. And, lucky for her, it fit well with the twins, constant desire to live on a nocturnal schedule.

“You can’t just keep living in fear Betty,” Polly scolded. “I know it’s easy to. Trust me, I get it. But you can’t just…sit there and hope it’ll all work out. You and Jughead have been dancing circles around each other for as long as I can remember. It’s time to stop fighting it and let the chips fall where they’re going to. If you’re meant to be together, then the universe will find a way of making it happen. And, for what it’s worth, my mother’s intuition tells me you’re meant to be together.” 

“Thanks Poll. When did you get so wise?” 

On the other end of the phone, she laughed. “You have twins halfway through your senior year of high school and you grow up and get smart. It’s time to get smart, Betty. Just don’t do it like I did. I’m happy and everything and I wouldn’t trade Juniper and Doug for anything, but sometimes I wish I had the opportunity to be a teenager. So, go to your high school party and be a teenager for me, okay?”

“I promise I will. I’ll make bad decisions and everything.”

“Make sure your bad decisions wear a condom. If he doesn’t, I’ll rip his head off with my bare hands. Mom won’t get the satisfaction of it. Not that I think Jughead is stupid enough to do that. Just a blanket statement warning. I have a shovel and Jason is obligated by law to help me hide a body, living or dead, after popping two of his babies out of my vagina.”

Betty laughed, feeling the worry start to leave her body. Sometimes a little familial reassurance was all that was needed. “I’m not sure that’s how marriage works.” 

“When you get married, you’ll realize that’s exactly how marriage works little sister. Now, get to bed. You want to be well rested for tomorrow. Where you will get no rest.”

They said their goodbyes, the sound of Juniper’s soft cries cutting the conversation short. It was easier to go to bed now. The worries were still there, but Polly had helped her loosen up. What is to be, shall be. That was going to be her daily motto. At least where Jughead was concerned. Tomorrow, she was going to let her hair down—metaphorically and literally, Veronica had insisted she lose the ponytail for the occasion—and just enjoy a little teenage rebellion. 

Her alarm clock rang early the next morning and the nerves reared their ugly head again. Very unlike a Cooper, she hit the snooze button five times, begging for the day to move a little faster. Veronica wasn’t coming over until four and play by plays from the boys wouldn’t start until seven. At first, she had been unsure why it would take over four hours to get ready. Then she remembered getting her best friend ready for homecoming and everything made a lot more sense.

Betty busied herself with mundane chores. She scrubbed the entire kitchen, made her bed, and did two loads of laundry. Around noon, her phone started buzzing, only this time the culprit was the person she’d wanted it to be all along.

**Jughead:**

Let it be known how much I love you, Betty Cooper. I’m dreading tonight already. The only joy I’ll get is watching Cheryl Blossom’s face when the son of an alcoholic drinks her into submission in front of her future wife.

On an unrelated note, am I a terrible person?

**Betty:**

Probably, but I love you anyway. Thanks again for being a trooper about this. You’re amazing. And who knows! Maybe tonight will be really fun! If I asked nicely could we dance together?

Her breath hitched, and she waited in nervous anticipation for his reply, eyes unblinking. Dancing seemed like a silly question to ask, but the very thought of grinding against him, her heart beating in time with the heavy thunder of the base, made her knees week and a certain wetness threatened to ruin her best blue panties.

Before Veronica was set to arrive, she had picked out a special set of underwear. Maybe it was silly, but confidence came from the inside out, even if the inside was a light blue lace bralette from Victoria’s Secret that she knew would look great underneath anything her best friend had picked out for the evening. Hopefully the outfit would show it off just a little. A tease for someone—Jughead—to be interested in.

**Jughead:**

I think something like that could potentially be arranged.

Her heart soared. Nervousness, excitement, hope filled her to the brim, making her body shake with complex jitters. It was hard to parse out what she was really feeling, but it felt good. Great. Jughead was going to dance with her. With a little liquid courage, she would spin right around a plant the kiss of her dreams right on his lips.

**Betty:**

Well I look forward to it then:)

There was a loud rap at her door at exactly four-thirty pm. Fashionably late as always, Veronica entered, unannounced, with a latte in each hand, one for each of them. She handed Betty the one with a straw.

“For you. Drink from there so you don’t mess up your makeup. Coffee is important, and then we’re going to load you up with carbs and champagne I stole from Mommy’s liquor cabinet.” Almost sensing Betty’s apprehension, she laughed and added, “Don’t worry, t’s been in there for ages, she won’t miss it.”

From her bag, she produced the bottle, setting aside the fresh dry-cleaning bags. One of them was a dress Betty recognized from a few of Veronica’s clubbing nights she had helped her get ready for. With mama Cooper around, there was no way she would ever have been able to sneak out for one. The other was a short plaid dress she had never seen before. It took a moment for it to occur that this one was for her.

“Um…Veronica is that…”

“Yes, before you ask, it’s plaid for a reason. Jughead’s always wearing those ridiculous flannels, right? Well this will go right along with that. Trust me. It’s just got a peekaboo of the fabric. You think I’d let you leave the house looking tacky? No. It’s mostly black. At least humor me by putting it on, won’t you? Trust me when I say you will look stunning and irresistible to your local hipster lover boy.”

Instead of arguing, Betty simply nodded. It was best to let Veronica do what she was going to do. Besides that, she trusted her. Boys had never really been Betty’s forte so any bit of help she could get was something she was grateful for. If a plaid dress was the way to Jughead’s heart, then she would happily wear plaid to a party.

Once the coffee was finished and she had made them a pot of pasta to share, the bubbly was popped, and the good times began. It was easy to forget about her worries with Veronica gently touching her face, applying strokes up makeup along her soft features. The eyeliner was the worst part. She wasn’t used to being so heavy handed with black charcoal and every time she felt a soft poke she squirmed, much to friend’s frustration.

“Stop moving or you’re going to end up with raccoon eyes and I won’t even be sorry! It’s hard enough to do this when I’m not sober!”

Betty giggled, already starting to feel the alcohol helping ease her worries and loosen her mind. “Okay, okay! I’m sorry, oh talented one. No more squirming.”

After an hour, her makeup was finally finished. Veronica refused to let her look in the mirror until the entire ensemble was complete. She slipped easily into the tight dress. With the tight fabric hugging to the curves of her body, Betty felt powerful, beautiful, and maybe even sexy. She put on an old paid of black heels: comfortable enough to dance it but didn’t class with the perfectly planned outfit she had been given. The person looking back at her in the mirror hardly seemed real.

“Wow. That’s me.”

“Damn right it is, B. Jughead won’t know what hit him when you show up in this number. You’re going to be the catch of the party. I’ll have to spend the entire night batting them off of you. Or, if all goes well, I won’t because Jughead will be so busy eating your neck like it’s his last meal that everyone will understand that you’re a spoken for gal.”

Betty turned and pulled her friend in for a tight hug. “You’re the best friend around, V. Don’t tell Kevin or Archie I said that.”

“What about Cheryl?”

“I think she knows.”

Veronica laughed. “Well then, secrets safe with me. Come on. We have boys to slay and a party to turn on his heels.”

By the time they arrived, Toni’s party was in full swing. There were some of the only Northsiders in attendance. Most of the crew Cheryl’s girl hung around with were part of the Southside Serpents who were, contrary to her mother’s opinions, perfectly nice people all around. She hoped Jughead would be okay here, knowing that many of the people had run alongside his father in a gang. Then again, maybe that would help him relax. There were no expectation and judgements with these people. Some of them probably still respected the Jones name.

The party was at an old abandoned warehouse. There were plenty of them littering the southside. The sheriff and his men never bothered to go check for them. No one tried to buy land this far out and the kids who trashed the place were hard to catch with red graffiti paint on their hands. Besides that, it was far enough out into Sweetwater that no one really came to visit except for the weekend party, and the territory became known as Lawless Land: where high school kids drank and smoked freely without fear of repercussions. As far as Betty knew, it had been this way even when her parents were her age.

The base thumped loudly as they made their way inside. Cheryl was located right next to the alcohol, planted beside Jughead. Betty couldn’t quite make out what was happening but judging by the cheers she could make a few guesses. The closer she got, the more her suspicions were confirmed. Both of them had punched a hole in the bottom of a beer while Archie and a few other boys in Serpent clad leather chanted, “Shotgun! Shotgun!” 

Cheryl was wearing her signature red. It had been a gift from Toni on the day of their engagement: a ring for class and a jacket for commitment. The green Serpent emblem stuck out against the cherry leather in ways that would only look good on a Blossom. Toni was standing close by Cheryl, laughing to herself as the scene unfolded, nursing a cocktail she’d made.

Jughead tossed the can away, wiping the foam from his mouth and turning towards his competition with a bright smile. “I win.”

Hers clattered to the ground not a moment later completely empty. She let out a frustrated groan. Toni cackled, “Jesus Jones what are you made out of? Iron? Pasta?”

“Both of the above. It helps that I’m a little cross faded, so I feel fucking invincible. Your boy has really good stuff.”

One of the Serpents who had been chanting nodded. “Serpents deal nothing but the best. Remember that next time.”

Letting the confidence of two glasses of champagne take her over, Betty stepped forward, smiling with red painted lips. It was a daring choice, but that’s what this night was about. She watched his eyes grow wide, pupils dilate with something she couldn’t quiet pinpoint.

“Hey handsome.”

“Oh my God that’s Betty Cooper,” she heard Toni whisper, earning a quick elbow from her fiancée, who said. “Do not ruin this for her, TT.”

Jughead took his time, letting his eyes linger on every inch of uncovered skin. It was like he was undressing her inch by inch. For a moment, it was terrifying, and then it felt invigorating. The fear washed away under his gaze and she dared to take another step forward, reaching out and taking his hand.

“You promised me a dance. Come on before you get too messed up. Cheryl can have you back later.”

“I won’t take him,” she hissed out a whisper. “Busy yourself with the tramp and don’t bring him back.”

Ignoring the veiled insult, Betty guided Jughead towards the dance floor. The music pounded in her ears, deafening her to the worries still buzzing in the back of her brain, and whatever quiet prayer Jughead looked like he was whispering. She laughed and pulled him closer. They had been this close before, curled up in a crappy attempt at a bed made from pillows. It had felt good then, comforting, but this felt better now.

Neither of them spoke as the rhythm took over. His hands found their way to the exposed patch of skin on her back, teasing her bra strap. It didn’t match perfectly with the dress, but she was thrilled he had noticed it, picked out especially for him. He pulled her close until their pelvises touched, and she felt the press of his jeans against her. Something was there, boiling beneath the surface of his skin, and she itched to break open the cage and unleash the beast within. 

It took a moment to find the beat, but soon they were lost in each other, her hands winding into his hair, grateful that he had ditched the beanie, so it wouldn’t get lost in some undisclosed warehouse in a part of town that was better left ignored. His inky black locks were soft to the touch. Betty groaned when she felt him place a hot kiss to her collarbone. So close. He was right there, inches from the place she wanted him most, craved to have him.

Betty reached out and grabbed his face. He peppered lingering kisses along her neck as she dragged him up to her lips. Their breath mingled, body’s never stopping their lazy gyrations against each other. She felt him start to stiffen as she pressed her hips closer.

“You remember how I said I wanted to be Bad Betty this summer?” she whispered, eyes hyper focused on the soft pout of his lips. 

“How could I forget?”

“Would you be bad with me?”

“I’m surprised you even had to ask.”

And then she was tasting him: bitter alcohol and smoke mixed with a hint of something sweet, like the bite of a sour candy melting on her tongue. It was better than anything she could have imagined, even at night when she let her thoughts wander into darkness. Betty felt the fireworks she had always dreamed of. The world around them melted away until it was him and only him and the way their lips felt melded together.

In the distance, she thought she heard a cheer, maybe from Kevin or Veronica or even a stumbling drunk Archie as those part of the bet handed over his well-earned winnings. It felt like a fantasy. Everything had fallen so quickly into place and now she never wanted to let go. The two of them together, exactly how she had always dreamed it would be.

The kiss didn’t end sweet and chaste. They pulled back for air, lingering apart only as long as it took to fill up their lungs, and then back they went. Her toes curled as his tongue probed past hers, tangling together in a dance nearly as sinful as the one their bodies were in on the dancefloor. His hands traveled down, cupping the curve of her ass to bring her closer. Betty felt him hard against her. Pride swelled in her chest as she realized she had done that, brought him to the edge of pleasure with just a heated kiss and the slow rock of her hips.

Her experience was placed far out of her thoughts, the alcohol dampening whatever worries that could possibly arise. For now, it was about the pleasure, and taking the thing she had always wanted again and again. Jughead pulled back with a wet pop and Betty whimpered at the loss of his warmth against hers.

“We should…we should go somewhere a little more private,” he suggested. The nerves in his voice betrayed the confidence he was trying to put on. It was endearing making her giggle. 

With her fingers threaded through his hair, she nodded, nipping his lip. “Yeah. Yeah, we should. Let’s go out back. I doubt there’s that many people. No bedrooms around but I’m sure you don’t mind getting a little dirty?”

“Whatever, gotten into you tonight, tell it to stick around. It’s fun. Not that you aren’t always fun. You’re seriously always fun. I love being around you, Betty.”

She shushed him with a kiss. “Shut up and take me outside.” 

They stumbled through the crowds that had formed on the dance floor, people partnered up. Even Kevin had found himself too preoccupied to pay much attention to Betty’s love life—a miraculous feat she would have to thank the strapping young Serpent for in the future. When they passed by the pink pong table, currently being used as a station for a countless army of red solo cups, she grabbed them each a drink. She poured hers back quickly, shivering as the beer rushed down her throat and settled a bit bumpy in her stomach.

Jughead was a bit slower, only tossing it into the large overflowing trashcan when they finally exited the building. The air was cooler than it had been inside. Her skin was still slick with sweat from their dance and her body felt like it was boiling from the inside out. She reached out and pulled him closer again, her back pressed against the cool metal of the rusted old building. He laughed and kissed her sweetly.

“You’re so fucking beautiful Betty,” he whispered against her lips.

“And you’re so fucking handsome Jug. God I can’t believe I kissed you.”

“If I remember correctly, I kissed you, but you did offer a little prompting so it’s really all semantics.”

Betty cut him off with another kiss, pulling him down but the shirt collar so she could get another proper taste of him. It was absolutely addictive. She understood now, why Archie chased after girls, Kevin bemoaned his single life, and Veronica constantly told her the far too intimate details of her explicit New York affairs. Kissing someone was great. But kissing Jughead was the best feeling in the world.

His greedy hands found the softness of her skin again. She felt him tracing along the hum of the skirt, threatening to pull it up as their hips worked against each other. The friction felt good, even as his zipper dragged against the front of her underwear. Betty moaned and nursed his bottom lip between her teeth. 

Lips and tongue began to lavish her neck, sucking until she knew there would be deep purple hickies in the morning. “Yes Juggie,” she begged. She wanted to be marked by him, so in the morning she could look in the mirror with pride and excitement and remember that this hadn’t just been a dream. It was blissful reality.

Suddenly, she felt her stomach churn. Pushing past it, Betty focused on the feeling of his hips against hers. His fingers hand dipped underneath her short skirt, tracing patterns in the curve of her alabaster thighs. It felt good to have him touch places she had only ever touched herself.

She hiccupped, bringing her hands to her mouth as the summersaults started up in her stomach again. It tasted like champagne and beer, only much worse. Jughead jumped back, eying her suspiciously.

“Betty. How much did you have to drink?”

“Well I had that chocolate almond Frappuccino Veronica brought me. And then j-just two,” she hiccupped again, “glasses and then the,” another hiccup, only this time it hurt. She felt her eyes start to water. “The beer.”

“Which you chugged like a maniac. Fuck. Betty I’m pretty sure you’re about to vomit.”

Normally, she would argue, but as the queasiness intensified, she was reminded that her best friend was the son of an alcoholic. All the worries that had been washed away with the liquor returned tenfold, only now accompanied with the horrifying realization that he was about to watch her puke her brains out in the trash can at an old warehouse party. This was much worse than Ethel Mugg’s second grade birthday, when she had lied to her mother about the stomach flu and ended up sick all over her pretty pink dress and the rose bushes at the Mugg’s estate. This would also involve a lot less purple food coloring.

There wasn’t much time to linger on ‘what ifs and whys’ because the next thing she felt was the distinct clench of her stomach and the soothing rub of Jughead’s fingers on her back, assuring her that neither of them would remember this in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr @tory-b <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty and Jughead have a lot to deal with the morning after Toni's party, and neither of them are really sure which way it'll go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks so much for all the love this fic always gets. It makes me incredibly happy to see you guys enjoying it! I'm thinking that at most they'll be around 3 more chapters? I have one for the drive in I want to do and a few other things but nothing too concrete just yet! Just, as always, thank you for the love I get from every single one of you and i promise i'm going to start replying to my comments.
> 
> ON a side note, did you know i'm having my [1.6k Follower Giveaway on tumblr!](http://tory-b.tumblr.com/post/175258715720/tory-b-tory-b-oh-my-god-i-know-i-talked) Please go check it out! I'm giving away essentially very long requests. I'll write wahtever you want! Plus, I think i'm gonna give all my followers the opportunity to pick the next multichapter fic i write!

Jughead was up before the sun, ignoring the slight pounding in his head that accompanied the rise of it a few moments later. Beside him, Betty was fast asleep. A small patch of drool had formed at the corners of her lips and even then, he thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. The memories came flooding back from the night before. The kiss. The confessions. And then the unfortunate and untimely vomit that had lost him his favorite pair of sneakers to a trashcan in some part of town that was best known for his insane parties and lack of parental control.

Even after last night’s shower she still smelt a bit like vomit and the back seat of Veronica’s leather Mercedes—driven by the always dedicated Smithers. The entire drive back to Betty’s home had been an alternating “ _ I’m so sorry _ ” from both the girls, knit together through loose explanations, Veronica stuffing water into her best friend’s hands, and then the blonde promptly throwing it back up inside the trash can of the car. Betty clung to him the entire way home. Occasionally she would sob into his neck when the pain got so bad, whispering words he couldn’t quite understand but felt the emotion of nonetheless, while his hand rested on her neck to help sooth her frazzled brain.

Getting her back into the house had been the hardest part. Back home in Toledo, he’d stuffed more than a few drunk high school boys into cold showers to wake up but doing so to the girl he’d just kissed until his lips went numb felt cruel. So instead, he did what he did best—brewed a pot of coffee. She drank it and the Excedrin down with a gulp, refusing to let him walk more than a few feet away from her at all times. It took two hours just to get her settled under the comforter of her bed and even then, she’d clutched his hand tightly and dragged him under the pastel sheets beside her. They’d shared that same bed countless times in their childhood but fitting two teenagers on a twin bed felt a lot like stuffing sardines in an aluminum tin.

Sitting at the old coffee table downstairs, watching the sun peak through the blinds and drown the pristine kitchen in a heavenly glow, Jughead let his mind at last wander to the greater impact last night would have on his life. There were a few ways this nonsense could go. Either Betty would forget and he would be stuck in a romantic comedy impasse of either telling her the truth or lying to save ego and precedence or, she would remember it all and they would both have to admit to themselves and each other that they had shared a kiss last night. It would be one where there had been—at least on his end—an endless supply of fireworks that were still bursting behind his eyes, coating his vision in tacky but beautiful red, whites, and blues.

The entire situation was terrifying. As reality set in, he was forced to plan out his decision, carefully as he could. These were shark infested volatile waters. One misstep could send them spiraling straight back to square one, a square Jughead wasn’t so sure he could ever sit comfortably in. This kiss had changed something, ignited a fire in his stomach that was impossible to quench, a hunger to reach out and grab her again and again. There was no imaginable way he could give her up now. He should have known—one taste of Betty Cooper and he was hooked, chasing after his supplier like a tragic addict of love.

He had another four cups of coffee to help with the nerves.

Around noon, Jughead heard the distinct grumble and stumble of a sleepy Betty crawling out of bed. He caught a few curses that surely would have made Mother Cooper cuss if she was anywhere in earshot as she searched the room for whatever it was she had lost. There was a light buzz as his phone threatened to rocket off the table and shatter its fragile screen on the tile floor. His mother had been calling him off and on since last night, after an—admittedly rude—drunken hang up argument they stumbled into regarding his own less than savory habits back home. Every few texts were a threat to bring him back home without a second thought. Filtered in between were apologies and worries. One was from his dad, simply asking if he would be home anytime soon. To that, Jughead replied a simple. “Probably not. We’ll see.” And left it at that.

To be fair, he had at least texted his mother explaining he wasn’t dead, but whatever conversation she was insisting they have needed to wait until later. Later being whenever he finally figured out everything that was going on with Betty. Nothing much else mattered to his nervous mind when that weighed heavily on his every thought.

The floorboards of the old wooden stairs creaked as Betty finally descended from her hangover cave. Judging from the blush on her cheeks, she at least remembered enough of last night to be embarrassed about her behavior. He gestured to the buttered—and one peanut buttered—slices of toast and orange juice spread out on the table. It wasn’t much, but her little nod let him know how grateful she was to have him around.

Neither of them spoke until she had scarfed down four pieces and two glasses. Watching her, he was forced to remember all the little things he so adored about Betty. From the top of her messy loose curls right down to the chipped golden nail polish on her toes she was hellfire and angel dust wrapped in one pastel sweater bow. Even in her disheveled state, Jughead was in awe of her beauty. Despite some initial embarrassment, he had managed to dress her down into a tank top and an old flannel sleep shirt he had brought with him, making her far more comfortable than the constricting flannel dress she had dawned last night. He made a mental note to ask Veronica what dimension she had picked it up from.

“How are you feeling?” He started off gentle, voice barely above a whisper as to not startle her off like a frightened rabbit.

Betty looked up at him with wide eyes and swallowed the edge of her toast. “Fine. Tired, and my head hurts but not half as bad as I thought I would. I guess I can thank you for your timely and knowledgeable drunk-care. I should apologize for my behavior though. What I did was completely uncalled for.”

Jughead winced. “I don’t know. I’m not sure it was a terrible thing.”

“Wait what are you talking about?”

“What are  _ you  _ talking about?”

“Drinking so much I threw up on your shoes?”

Mortified, he looked down at his own—now empty—cup of coffee. “Oh. Well fuck.”

“What were you talking about?” She repeated, moving just an inch closer so her eyes could properly bare into the depths of his soul and rip out every insecure inch of his thoughts and bring them straight up to the surface.

“I’m talking about…I’m talking about when we both got to the party. After you watched me shotgun a beer with Cheryl. We ended up on the dance floor and we…we kissed. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say we dry humped until I pulled you outside, so I could grope you in peace. Either your friends have a voyeurism fetish, or you do. I think Kevin took pictures.”

Betty groaned, hiding her face in her hands. “Oh my God. Of course, he did. Kevin has no shame. He’ll use them to blackmail me until my death. You too. No one is safe from Kevin. Not even Kevin.”

“It sounds dangerous to be a Kevin.”

“In every mind but his it is.”

The silence settled around them again, so weighted that it painfully clung to his heart, like a vulture’s talons slicing through the most sensitive muscle in his body. For a moment, he was terrified she would toss the glass of orange juice in her sink and walk back upstairs. She looked sick. Ill. Like kissing him was the biggest mistake of her life. And here he had been so hopeful. After finding all those messages, after “Operation Spring Fling” became so obvious to him, he had sworn there was hope for his long time Betty Cooper crush. Instead it was crashing and burning, just like everything else important to him ever had. Relationships were not his strong suit and apparently his lifelong commitment to her would be no exception.

And then she sighed and ran a hand through the ends of her hair like she always did when she was nervous, picking at the split ends—Jughead once overheard his mom say that doing that made them worse, but he doubted that at this moment she wanted to hear his scolding. Besides, when had his mom been right about anything ever?

“That isn’t how I wanted it to go. I wanted…I wanted to be drunk enough that I wasn’t scared to tell you Jughead. That telling you how much I had always loved you didn’t scare the absolute shit out of me anymore. But when it still did I just kept drinking until I felt powerful. And Veronica dressing me up? I felt invincible.”

He offered her a half smile. “Don’t feel too bad, faux invincibility is the chronic condition of the millennial youth.”

“Shush. You just…you shush for a minute. I’m trying to be serious and you’re making me laugh,” she giggled, and the world instantly felt lighter. “I’ve loved you for a really long time Juggie. Maybe since before you left but it really hit after you were gone, and I didn’t have anyone around me anymore to be with. Sure, there was Archie to look at, especially when he was working construction—don’t make that face Jones when you know where this is leading—but it wasn’t the same as the connection we shared. It was so soft and gentle and pure and good and everything I wanted. When I fall it was and always has been you who picks me up. Not anyone else. So, it’s you I want to keep picking me up, and it’s you I want to pick up. I love you and I don’t regret kissing you. Not for a second. I do regret the vomit and I’ll make it up to you somehow. Even if it means new shoes.”

“New shoes is a good start. But I can think of something better.”

Betty’s brows knit in confusion and she opened her mouth to speak. “How —”

Then he was kissing her like she’d never been kissed. And she was kissing back, tangling her hands in his hair to pull him forward. It felt different than last night, timid in the approach. She didn’t let his tongue explore as readily as before. Pushing her lips forward, she fumbled a bit, their teeth clanking together for only a moment before recovery. It was endearing in its awkwardness—a phenomenon so distinctly Betty he felt warm from the bottom of his feet to the tip of his beanie-less head.

Jughead pulled back for a deep breath, air tight in his lungs as something primal coiled once again in the pits of his stomach. There was no way in hell he could ever let her go after this. The world would have to tear them apart kicking and screaming.

“You know, for someone who’s never been kissed you’re a pretty good kisser.”

Betty looked up at him with a bright blush. “You think? I think it’s because I’ve got a good partner to practice with me.” She giggled and pulled him down by his collar again. This t-shirt was going to be ruined, stretch beyond a point even a hot water wash could fix. Apparently with kissing her came an increased loss in his clothing. Jughead couldn’t find it in his heart to care.

“Wow,” she whispered against his lips.

“Good wow?”

“Always a good wow with you.”

With the floodgates opened, trying to keep his hands off of Betty began a fool’s errand. They were on every inch of her skin he could find. Calloused fingers slipped under the hem of her borrowed shirt, tracing along the curves and contours of her hips as they moved as close as they could possibly get to one another. This was the first time they had felt each other sober. It was deliriously good.

Jughead—overcome with something he might describe as caveman strength—picked her up easily and set her on the marble counters, guiding her legs around his waist so he could be as close as he wanted. The drawstring of his pajamas pants got a little tighter, making her grin.

“Excited?” She smiled with pride.

Something flickered in his eyes as he kissed her already bruised lips firmly. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this Betty Cooper, but I’ve been pining for you for about my entire life. That time you proposed to me on the playground? I consider it a binding contrast. I’d like my engagement ring to be at least one karat but a in rose gold band.”

“And when did you become an expert on jewelry?”

Sheepish, he grinned up at her. “Don’t mind that. It’s for the future. Way far in the future. But trust me, you’ll be the first to know when that future hits.”

He could tell just how happy the thought made her, as the heated intimacy melted away into the giddiness that accompanied—or he assumed at least, this was all still very much a blind walkthrough—the honeymoon phase in relationships. If that was even what they were.

“Are you…my girlfriend?”

Betty frowned and her brows knit in confusion before a wicked grin spread across her features. “Depends.”

“Depends on?”

“If you’re my boyfriend.”

Jughead smiled back. “You know I asked you first.”

“Well I asked you the time that mattered. But I guess if I have to make the decision, you’re my boyfriend and I’m your girlfriend. It’s settled.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then they were on each other again, too hungry to care about the way the salt shaker knocked into the pepper and sent it spilling across the stove top. That would be a problem for future Betty and Jughead. Someone would smell the peppercorns burning when they decided to cook lunch—if he even decided to have one. Currently, eating up his new girlfriend was leaving him relatively satisfied.

She arched under his chest and moaned when his fingers swiped a sensitive part of her spine. Jughead grinned against her neck, biting up it to revive the bruises he’d littered there just last night into more colorful purples. Without the dragon—Alice—around, he could mark his princess as much as he saw fit to.

Exploring her left him insatiable. Just as they had found a rhythm in their hips, rocking now instead of knocking, the girl above him started to giggle. And then her giggles turned into howls. She thrashed in his touch and suddenly Jughead realized he’d stumbled across her sides: a part of her body he remembered vividly from youth eliciting the most joyful sounds. Whenever she was mad at him, he would stealthily come up from behind, tickling her sides until she is begging him to stop and kicking her legs with laughter. This technique had been most effective when he’d broken something of hers, but always came with the consequences of her throwing her other things at him and shouting, “You are the absolute worst Jughead Jones! W. O. R. S. T!”

Those same words echoed in the kitchen, making his heart swell so many sizes the Grinch Post-Christmas revival would be jealous. He shook his head and kissed her again, ever relentless in his movements, laughing in glee as she tried to squirm away from him.

The air went cold when he heard his phone ring—a familiar and horrifyingly shrill bird call that always alerted him to his mother’s calls. Jughead groaned and rest his head on her shoulder.

“Make her stop.”

“Juggie, is that your mom? You have to answer it! It’s not fair to just keep sending her to voicemail. Are you guys fighting again?”

 

“Not…exactly. More…we have a disagreement I guess. But it’s not about anything in particular except my life and who I am. She says I’m becoming more and more like dad and I think me being here has her terrified that all her worse fears are coming to life. I’m tired of her always assuming the worst so I just stopped answer. At least that way I can’t hear her assume I’ll turn out like a deadbeat asshole who ended up in jail for decades.”

Betty frowned and ran a hand through his tangled curls. “I hate the way she treats you.”

“Is it any different from how most people treat their kids. You’ll have to tell me, honestly, because one of my parents is a felon and the other is a paranoid mess. Not that either of them had great people to look up to. My grandparents on my mom’s side are, for lack of a better word, fucking insane, and Dad’s mom died after her was born and Grandpa Forsythe, bless his heart but curse his name, was always a hard ass. He kicked my dad out when he was my age. Not that your family makes any more sense.”

Betty frowned and nodded. “My mom’s scary controlling and my dad moved out on us because he couldn’t handle it. I don’t even know if they’re married still but being business partners must make that hard. His parents died when I was little, and I have no idea about my mom’s side of the family, she just doesn’t like to talk about them, like if she whispers their names in the mirror three times they’ll appear and stab her or something. Do you think our teenage years will be shrouded in as much mystery as theirs is?”

“Honestly, let’s hope so. I’m not sure how you’d do telling future children that you confessed to me after you threw up all over my only pair of nice shoes.”

“ _ Those  _ were your only nice pair of shoes?”

“Wow, be a little kinder to the poor kid.”

“Oh Juggie,” she took his hands, shaking her head. “You know I don’t mean it like that right? I’ve never and I would never look down on you just because things are hard. Oh God, I sounded just like a privileged white girl, then didn’t I? What if I made it up to you and we drove out to the Centerville mall and I bought you lunch and some new shoes. We can call it our first official date.” His phone practically buzzed off the table as his agitated mother continued with her relentless calls. “As long as you do me a favor and pick that up.”

At his groan of protest, she continued. “No no, don’t do that. I know it sucks but you don’t want to trash your relationship with your mom. As messy as it is you two love each other and whatever it is that’s happening now, it can be overcome, even if it’s just a little at a time. I refuse to spend the rest of summer with you moping around like you get because you’re in a feud with your mother over how long you can go without calling each other. You’re both painfully stubborn and it won’t end well for anyone, let alone you. Just think of Jellybean. If your mother isn’t calling, then she won’t get to hear from you either.”

There weren’t many things that could play his heartstrings as well as his little sister. The very thought of not getting to talk to her all summer long stung like orange juice on an open wound. Grumbling something obscene, Jughead left the warm embrace of his girlfriend—that was going to take some getting used to—and picked up his phone on the second to last ring.

“What do you want mom?”

“Whoa,” the voice on the other side of the phone was much gruffer than his mothers and it took a moment for Jughead to register it was his father’s number on the screen. “If that’s how you answer the phone with her, boy, no wonder she’s fuming and running around panicked like a headless chicken.”

He groaned and plopped himself in the blue recliner chair that had always belonged to Hal Cooper. A few memories flittered across his mind as he traced an oblong faded mark on the right-side armrest. This one had been concerning a small Kool-Aid spill from Archie when they ‘weren’t allowed to sit in Mr. Cooper’s chair’ but they had anyway, trying to feel tough—and perhaps showing off a bit to Betty, who had just been grounded for what he still called unfair and unjust reasons (there was absolutely no proof she cut off Polly’s favorite Barbie’s ponytails, except an eyewitness account from himself that he had refused to give). His poor red- headed friend’s butt had been as bright as the cherry scented stain and his hair.

“Are you calling me for her now?” The pause told him everything he needed to know. “Wow, she must be desperate if she’s talking to you about it.”

“Careful. I’m still your father even if I haven’t always acted like one. I’m not calling to preach, God knows that’s not my place after the shit I’ve done, but what I will say is don’t let this explode the same way I always let the stuff my with old man do alright? Or you’ll end up joining the Army and throwing your back out while you work at Pop Tate’s diner.”

“Don’t make it sound so tempting. Think of all the free burgers,” he laughed gently.

When he has been growing up, there was something about FP Jones he felt painfully admirable, that’s why the crushing realization of a prison sentence had hurt so bad. Of course, he’d always been aware of his faults, aware of both his parents’ faults, in a way children often weren’t. They used to say that Betty had popped out wearing rose colored glasses and his had been tinted black. Even then, the man who made him laugh, who always told him he would do great things, get away from the trailer park, did not seem the kind of man who could implode so spectacularly. Some days, Jughead worried his mother was right, and he was destined to go just the same, disappointing everyone he had ever meant something to.

His father chuckled on the opposite end of the receiver. “At this point, all the free burgers in the world couldn’t get me excited to serve a bunch of spoiled snot nosed kids. But you’re a smooth talker, Jug, and you’re getting me sidetracked. Your mom says she won’t call again until you decide you want to talk to her, but I’m just saying it might be worth it to reach out. No use striking a match when you could mop up the kerosene.”

“I know you’re right,” which was a sentence he never thought he would say to a convict. “Just…give me time. By the end of the day I’ll talk to her. I um…am going out with Betty to Centerville today, so when we get back.”

“Oh yeah? Finally square up and ask that girl on a date, have you? Speaking of, how’s her hangover?”

“Her what-”

FP howled with laughter. “Don’t play dumb with me boy. You think you can show up at a Serpent party and not have me catch wind of it? Probation or not I still live around these guys and I hear the gossip faster than anyone. Good to hear you and her finally figured things out then. Make sure she has some aspirin and water. Take good care of her or you can bet Alice will ring you for nothing and leave you out to dry.”

Sometimes, being the son of an alcoholic came with its perks. Or maybe, just this one time, where he needed some advice on helping his girlfriend get through a hangover. With a scolding that almost sounded parental and some friendly knowledge tucked away, they said goodbye and hung up the phone.

“It was dad. And I promised him what I’m promising you, I’ll call mom after today so we both have some time to simmer and cool off from…whatever it is that we’re doing.”

“Being angry for no reason?”

Jughead glowered. “Honestly who raised you? Go. Let’s get dressed so we can venture out into the world and enjoy the morning.”

“I never thought you’d be the one encouraging me to leave the house. It feels almost surreal. Are we sure you’re not sick? Dying?”

“No,” he shook his head and kissed her sweetly. “Just really happy.”

The Cooper house quickly went from slumbering residential life, to busy hustle and bustle as the two teenagers got ready for their first official date. Betty locked her door and forbade him from coming in under the claim that it would be better for both of them if he got to be surprised. He rolled his eyes and muttered something sarcastic before going off to do his own which—which took only a fraction of an hour when your entire wardrobe fit one color pallet and your favorite pattern was plaid and only plaid.

Eventually, she joined him downstairs, wearing a cute yellow top and a pair of white shorts that made her glow like the sun, or maybe a fresh sprung daisy. Unable to stop himself, Jughead pulled her in for a quick kiss. Betty giggled into it and pulled on his shirt.

“Let me go. Or we’re never going to leave. And I owe you mall food and some new sneakers.”

Jughead took her keys and drove them the short hour drive to Centerville, while Betty stayed attached to her phone, answering calls from both her Mother and Polly, as well as text messages that he caught her smiling too. Unable to keep himself from a little teasing, he pointed to her—outdated and useless—Samsung.

“Operation Summer Fling?”

She jumped into the air, clutching her phone tighter to her chest. “Wh-what. How? How did you?” Realization slowly dawned on her, “Juggie, you little sneak! You’ve read my messages haven’t you!?”

“Just the ones you let pile up on the screen when you were sleeping! It’s not my fault, I told you I was nosy. I just couldn’t figure out your passcode, so I ended up just reading what I could. I’m thinking I’ll send them all fruit baskets as a thank you.”

“You know Archie would hate a fruit basket.”

“It’s almost better that way isn’t it? Now we can make sure that he gets his daily intake of vitamin C.”

Betty laughed. “You are such a weirdo.”

“Yep. I’m weird. I’m a weirdo. I just don’t fit in, I don’t want to fit in. Lucky me you don’t seem to mind. Now I’m serious, do we get Kevin chocolate covered strawberries? I’m thinking this fruit basket thing comes with an added twist. Kevin’s chocolate to make him bemoan his diet. Archie has to look at fruit. Cheryl’s I make entirely out of fake fruit. She’ll find a use for it as a projectile I’m sure. Veronica’s we buy all the fruit from the dollar tree.”

“Oh my God Juggie!”

“What? Don’t get mad at me, you’re already laughing!”

As they entered the mall, Betty pulled them in the direction of men’s shoes. The mall was busy today, but not as crowded with teenagers and soccer moms as he had originally thought there might be. The pimple- faced clerk inside of the department helped him into a pair of white and black tennis shoes that Betty deemed “nice looking”. The difference between “nice looking” and “ugly looking” shoes was starting to confuse him.

When she thought he wasn’t looking, Jughead heard her snapping a picture of him admiring the footwear. It would end up somewhere on social media in no time. The thought delighted him. There were no secrets, no hiding one another, just a simple out in the open young couple dating after too many years of playing pretend.

“And who’d you send that one too?”

Betty blushed but didn’t fight him on it. “Just the gang. I told them we were out today and they wanted to know what we were doing…”

Without a second though, he snatched the phone from her hand, scrolling through the messages. She weakly tried to protest, but he could tell a part of her was enjoying having the entire world know that they were together, even if it meant an increase in his antics.

**Kevin:**

Fucking FIN. AL. LY. A Date! And we’re actually calling it a date right? You two aren’t just saying it’s a “friendly outing” where you eye fuck each other and make kissy faces, because honestly that is exhausting to watch from an outsider’s perspective.

**Archie:**

Ew. Don’t want to know about my childhood best friends doing any kind of fucking.

**Cheryl:**

Someone needs bleach after that little encounter at TT’s party.

**Archie:**

Yes pls.

**Cheryl:**

Would you like a straw?

**Archie:**

Yeah. Bendy with an umbrella. Thx.

**Cheryl:**

You are insufferable. Why has no one murdered you yet?

**Archie:**

I have a good face.

**Kevin:**

And probably a bomb ass dick

What who said that?

I did.

“Your friends are insane,” he laughed. “Is this normal?”

“Unfortunately. They’re messy but I love them. And I have to thank them, because without the encouragement, and the alcohol, I probably would never had confessed to you. I was supposed to when I first picked you up. I wore yellow because I knew how much you loved it but I panicked and they came up with this entire party just to get us together.”

“Talk about dedication. I’ll have to say thank you to them later. But for now, no more phone. I like attention.”

Betty rolled her eyes and pulled him in for a quick kiss, spinning away from him. “Pick up your shoes you needy third grader. We have mall food to eat.”

“Wait, wait! Just one more question. What’s your phone password?”

“You’re still harping on that?”

“I harp on almost everything Betty, you should know that by now.”

“Fine,” she seemed a bit sheepish admitting it. Jughead almost always enjoyed her nerdier sides, even going so far as to encourage them with a few pictures and articles he thought she might be interested in. One night, he had stayed up watching baking shows with her for hours just so she had some more recipes to try. And the amount of times they had stargazed together was almost laughable. “It’s Andromeda. That’s what it spells. It’s like—”

“Like Perseus and Andromeda. He saved her from being sacrificed in Greek mythology. It’s one of JB’s favorite myths.”

There were times when Jughead looked at Betty and he couldn’t understand how she could ever fall for someone like him, and then she showed her every facet of him and he understood. They were not the cookie cutters people liked them to be—the boxes their parents tried to force them into. It was the little quirks that made him love her more and more. As they peeled back each other’s layers, at the core was someone he was willing to protect with his life and love so fiercely she never had to feel lonely again.

“I promise I’ll always save you from evil Greek monsters.”

Betty laughed. “Oh, my hero.”

For the rest of the day, they stumbled around the mall, enjoying the time as two teenagers in love. Jughead loaded up on mall food—four pretzels, two salt and two cinnamon, a slice of pizza, a hot dog, and a huge thing of lemonade.

“It’s Hot Dog on a stick Betty! How can I not have all of it? We don’t have on in the mall in Toledo!”

“It just makes me laugh how much you can eat! Where does it all go Jones?”

Jughead watched her with a small smile, reaching across the table and taking her hand. She had a new bow in her hair, one that she had insisted on getting because it was Rapunzel themed and she took experience in the stifling life of an overbearing mother who would lock her in a tower if she could. Despite her intent on spoiling him, she was the one who left the day with bags of things. Each store they went into was filled to the brim with things she didn’t have.

Without Alice’s watchful eyes Betty could be her free-est self. The restriction on her clothing options was lifted and she allowed herself a few more items to hide at the bottom of her drawers. She pointed at a Macy’s at the end of the mall: the last department store she had yet to hit.

“Can we go in there? Pretty please? I have something I need to buy,” she begged, taking his hand. Those big eyes looked up at him and he melted. She was getting too good at reading him already.

“Yeah of course we can. Let’s go.”

Inside was filled full of clothes he’d never seen before. Some of them hardly made sense and he imagined himself getting tangled up in the strings on one of the blouses she picked up. He followed obediently through the shoes, across the youth’s, and around the men’s until they landed in the section she wanted: women’s lingerie. A flush crept to his cheeks

Hanging from the racks and stuffed in drawers were little lace thongs and pretty bralettes. Not one to watch much pornography—though it did happen on the occasion, he was a stifled young boy with a boner for Betty—he hadn’t seen a lot of it before. Some of it made as little sense as the shirts from before. He looked over to see her working through her blush, picking up whites and blues and holding them up to her body, checking a small tag in the back for their size. Jughead hoped some of this new-found confidence could be thanks to him. It certainly was exciting.

Her gaze lingered on the pink ones for a few moments, before pulling away and guiding herself towards the other side of the section, where the deeper, darker sets had been placed. Black wigs sat on mannequins, matching well with the black stilettos they wore. He watched her eyes widen and felt his heart skip a beat.

Once his voice found its way back into his chest, he spoke up, pointing at a pretty black lace set hanging from the wall. “I like that one.”

“Y-you do?” She tried to hide her stutter with a cough, picking it up. After a few seconds of handling it, Betty nodded. “I like it. It’s not for tonight just…one day. It’s important to be prepared.”

“Yeah. Prepared.” A vulgar caveman part of his brain hoped prepared was not that too far off in the future.

She smiled up at him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, and putting it back into the cart. Betty looked like she was having a good time on their silly adventure. He hoped the rest of the summer would be exactly like this: the two of them enjoying each other and the days as they passed slowly by. After purchasing her last items—the black lingerie set amongst them—the mall announced its closing and they left hand in hand, enthralled and excited about what the rest of the summer might bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, follow me on tumblr @tory-b!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty finds out what's been troubling Jughead these last few weeks and they have a bit of a come to Jesus regarding his mother and the nasty things she's been saying to him--most of which Betty is not happy about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of group chat in this update lovelies, it's a bit of an emotional one for our boy Jughead <3 Thanks to @bugggghead for being my beta I love and stan you always. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter! I suspect we've got about 2 chapters left after this one and I've had SO MUCH fun.

Betty could not actually describe the state of bliss she had been in, even if someone paid her a million dollars in cold hard cash. Every day she would wake up and the realization would dawn on her that she was dating her very best friend in the world, Jughead Jones, and that she could kiss him whenever it struck her fancy to. No more secret pining. No more love letters that would never get sent. No more well-meaning “I love you” texts that left them both with a bitter taste on their tongues. Now the only thing they were tasting was each other. The flood gates had opened, and she had gone from Drew Barrymore in  _ Never Been Kissed _ to Olivia Newton John at the end of  _ Grease _ . There was more than one occasion she had been kissed so thoroughly that she couldn’t think straight by the end of the night, the only thing escaping her lips was a little giggle that sent Jughead spiraling with laughter.

Summer was halfway over now. The party, the dates, it had all taken up precious time she didn’t realize was flying by at a terrifyingly fast pace. Jughead would have to go back to Ohio at the end of August, and the thought nearly broke her heart in two—no matter how many times he whispered promises against her lips. The worst part of it all was the pain she watched on his face every day. Whatever feud he had with his mother was yet to be resolved. According to FP, whom she spoke with only on the occasion she stumbled into the diner to pick up milkshakes and french fries for her and her boyfriend (he was her boyfriend!) to share and he had been either too lazy or too unwilling to put on proper pants and accompany her, things were not doing well between Gladys and him.

Gladys was a difficult person to unravel. On more than one occasion, Betty had set her mind to making friends with the woman, only to find her prickly and cold to any sort of discussion outside of calm pleasantries. Coopers specialized in calm pleasantries and it was even starting to get exhausting for her. The one thing she would talk about ad nauseum was her children. Particularly little Jellybean, who was doing well in both music and soccer and loved so unconditionally it could make a grown man weep. Jughead hadn’t spoken to her in a while either—no doubt a power play from Gladys in the strange hostile dance she often watched them in.

It was sometimes understandable, how untrusting he was. Despite all of FP’s attempts to change and better himself, he had, ultimately, a very checkered past of criminality and spousal neglect. His parenting left something to be desired and even now the relationship between him and his son was something more akin to cordial roommates than parent and child. Not that either of them minded it. Eventually, Betty suspected, time would heal their wounds and they might even be friends. Jughead’s idol worship for his father had been too intense during his youth for him to hold his grudge for any longer than a few years. His relationship with Gladys would never be quite so easy to mend.

She resented him. Anyone with a stitch of sense could see that. He was—despite many protests from Jughead himself—in many ways the spitting image of his father. Rebellion, passion, and a charming smile that could woo even the wildest of tempers: things Betty could see still smoldering behind that old man’s tired gaze as he poured soda into cups and scooped double chocolate chip ice cream into malts. Her mother had always warned her about the Jones men. Everyone had always warned her about the Jones men, sometimes even them. But she wasn’t one to listen much to warnings and it had done her well. The sweetest boy in the entire world was by her side in what they vowed to be a forever.

But bitterness was a slow and insidious killer. In the last few days, she could sense the shift in Jughead’s demeanor. The longer the war went on with his mother, the further and further he retreated into himself. Betty could count on one hand the number of times he had ever snapped at her, and two of them had been over the past week. The others had been a result of tensions at home.

Jughead’s home life was vaguely defined for her. She knew he slept on the pull-out couch of his grandparent’s ill-fitting home, often times smashed beside him were the dogs he hated. Whereas money, time, and attention were paid to his sister, neglect was the deepest form of affection he got—that was, until, his mother would be overcome with such guilt, she would come down on him in overbearing worry until he pushed back and ran as far from their problems as he could. It was a painful cycle to watch. On more than one occasion Betty had found herself on the opposite end of a payphone line, listening to him curse and moan and threaten to leave Toledo. It always ended with him slinking back home in the middle of the night after a few days to cool down, with neither him or his mother bothering to discuss the fall out from their feud.

Whatever was going on between them now was the worst she had ever bore witness to. At her pleading, he had picked up the phone, a decision she instantly regretted heckling him over as the screaming match outside in her backyard burned her ears. He sat down on her couch and cried for nearly an hour before leaving for a walk and coming back a steely caricature of the boy who always warmed her soul. If the way FP scuttled around her at the dinner was any indication, it had something to do with her.

She waltzed into the diner on a mission. Jughead was still asleep, spread out across the queen bed they’d started sharing after countless nights on the hardwood floor covered in scattered pillows had started to cause a symphony of creaking joints early each morning. All her friends warned that cohabitation would only cause catastrophe. Currently, all it was causing was happiness and an empty refrigerator. That wasn’t the only reason she was headed to her favorite 24-hour diner though. She knew FP was working that day and there were a few questions she wanted to ask him.

He spotted her almost instantly and she watched his features tighten into an expression that would have been unreadable if she wasn’t so familiar with Jughead’s frustrated glances and worried twitches. Sometimes, it was startling how near identical their mannerisms were. No wonder his mother was unable to see past the similarities—though that didn’t excuse her terrible behavior.

“Betty. What can I get for you today? Or same thing as always.”

“Same thing.” She gave him her cheeriest smile. “But, could you get me two cups of coffee instead of one. I think Jughead’s going to be extra tired after last night.” It was hard not to remember how quickly things had escalated the night before, from a silly movie marathon to an all-out grope fest on her pristine sofa.

Jughead had crawled beside her onto the couch, holding a popsicle in his hand, the fan spinning wildly overhead to keep them from boiling in the heat. All he was wearing was an old white tank top and a pair of shorts. The banana flavor—or maybe pineapple, she really didn’t get a proper chance to taste it—dripped along the side, splattering onto the bit of exposed chest. Unable to keep her eyes away from him for much longer, Betty learned down and dipped her tongue against the curve of his pecs. After that, it had been a free for all as the popsicle melted, tossed aside and forgotten in her lemonade cup.

Hands had been everywhere. Despite her initiation of the incident, her boyfriend had quickly turned the tables, touching and tracing along every inch of her lily-white skin. That tongue was going to be the death of her. He traced the movements she had made on him, dipping between the curves of her breasts until all she could let out was a series of breathy whimpers and moans. If the heat wouldn’t melt her completely, he surely would.

Somehow, his shirt had been tossed to the side and his fingers were under her little pink skirt, tracing just at the line of her lacy boy shorts. If she had thought better, Betty might have chosen a more alluring pair of panties for the evening. From that moment on, she vowed to be conscious of his presence in the house, properly dressed for any spur of the moment trysts.

When he moaned against her neck, Betty momentarily forgot how to breath. He made the most beautiful sounds when he was uninhibited. Against her, she felt the strain in his jeans, but was too lost in the feeling of his sticky lips on her skin. The phone rang, and they were ripped apart. When she answered the phone—panting and breathless—all Veronica did on the other end was laugh before hanging up. But it was too late. The mood had been sufficiently ruined.

The little flush on Betty’s cheeks must have given away the sweetness of her memories, because the older man simply shook his head and laughed.

“Good to see you kids are having fun. I don’t much see him around but at least I know he’s fed and safe with you.”

“I promise he’s being well looked after.”

“I don’t doubt it. Keep him safe or his mother will drive all the way out here and strangle me with the strings from her purse.”

She perked up, sitting across from him at the bar as she watched FP place her order on the spinning metal wheel. “I had a question for you actually.”

“Of course, you did. I’ve never known a Cooper to butter someone up with casual conversation without a question.” Despite the harshness of his tone, she saw the mirth in his eyes, helping her relax. “Come on. What is it? It’s not busy so I’ve got a minute where I can pretend to sweep.”

“What…Mr. Jones what happened between Jughead and his mom? He’s been sulking around the house looking like a kicked puppy for a while and I’m starting to get really worried about him. Whenever they talk, it’s like a bomb explodes and he’s bitter and snappy for the next few days until he calms down. Then she’ll call, and they’ll fight, and it’ll start all over again.”

FP sighed, setting the broom down. The air felt uncomfortably tense and heavy as she watched the minute hand tick by on the analog clock above her. Neon flickered and bathed her in a light glow. For a moment, Betty feared that he might turn away and ignore her. And then he opened his mouth to speak.

“I can’t exactly attest to their relationship. In fact, you’re probably better at all that than I am. Gladys never once spoke to me while I was in prison and Jughead and I don’t talk much aside from a quick hello when he pops by to grab something he hasn’t already left at your place. When the old bird calls, she screams at me about not being a better dad, until she’s crying about something else. I think most of all she misses him. We were young when we had him. Gladys was younger than me, didn’t even get to graduate high school. And I know that’s my fault. I know a lot of this mess is my fault, but there’s nothing I can do to make it right except sit back and listen to them both. They’ve got something inexplicable that they need to work out.

“When you throw someone into that situation, where they aren’t expecting to be a parent, it’s going to mess with them for a while. I took away a lot of her younger years and she’s still got that resentment. She doesn’t want Jughead to do that to someone, especially not you.”

Betty’s eyes went wide as saucers. “Me? She doesn’t want him to hurt me?”

“She doesn’t want you to end up like she did. And she watches the way Jughead acts around you and fears it’s happening. So, she lashes out and he’s got a temper, so he screams right back. It’s messy as hell, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I guess it is.”

Betty knew a thing or two about domineering parents. Things were never easy when you had Alice Cooper running your life like it was some preplanned Hallmark movie with a cookie cutter plot line. She would send her away to an all girls school in Holland if she ever found out about her escapades with Jughead, especially at Serpent parties. It would be hard enough to convince her mother that it was proper for her to date a Jones boy. Sometimes, she contemplated just not saying a word until she moved out and it was time to send out wedding invitations, but she couldn’t do that to Jughead’s pride. He deserved to be waved about proudly; he was a catch.

“Didn’t mean to plague you down with all this.” He patted her hand and set the bag of burgers by her side. “I threw in an extra milkshake, too. Don’t worry about the tab. I’ve got it this time.”

She smiled and kissed his cheek, trying not to dwell on the low pain in her chest. “Thank you, Mr. Jones.”

“And remember, you didn’t hear anything about their fight from me. You’re just a concerned citizen.”

“Aye, aye. Consider it a secret.”

As she left, Betty almost didn’t catch him whisper. “Things don’t stay secrets long between you and Jughead.”

The entire drive home, the words FP had said swirled around in her head until she felt dizzy with confusion. Gladys was never protective like this with her before. It all seemed out of place, although slightly endearing from a woman she had never really felt a connection with before. She had always been Jughead’s overbearing and hurtful mother, a similarity they shared and moaned over. Now it was even more complex.

She knew in her heart he would never hurt her. But there was teen pregnancy in both their families and the thought made her stomach churn, especially with the image of the popsicle fiasco last night still in the forefront of her mind. She was on the pill—only to help her ‘acne’ so her mother didn’t think something sinister and sultry was going on behind closed doors—but it was better to be safe than sorry.

If his mother had brought these concerns to him, no wonder he was furious with her. A betrayal, to be told you were exactly like the man who had left you, hurt you, abandoned you, become a criminal when you were young, and you had always been told was a monster even when you didn’t believe it. If all this confusion was hurting her head, her boyfriend must be drowning in misery. Her heart ached painfully for him. This was more than a few Pop’s burgers, coffee, and a free milkshake could fix.

After much thought, Betty decided she would have to play the girlfriend card for the first time later tonight. She would sit him down and have a long conversation about this—not allowing for any distractions, no matter how tempting his cute face was—and convince him to finally hash things out with his mother, so the pain could be lifted from both of their shoulders. It would help everyone. The best potential outcome. She just wanted everyone to be happy, was that so bad? Surely nothing too terrible could happen.

Betty made her way through the front door, finding her boyfriend sitting at the table, staring down at his computer with a mixed look of sleepiness and confusion that was a terrifyingly cocktail of cute to behold. She giggled and planted a quick kiss on his lips. It was a look into future domestic bliss that left her reeling with excitement.

“Hey Betts,” he muttered, tiredness making his voice crack. His eyes zeroed in on the coffee in her clutch. “Is that for me?”

“Who else. And exactly the way you like it: black like your soul and Nickelback’s prospects.”

“I honestly can’t believe you remember me saying that. I don’t even remember me saying that.” He greedily drank down the coffee, melting into his chair as it warmed from the bottom of his toes to the tip of his nose.

Unpacking the food, she replied, “Of course I do. I remember everything you say when you’re high. I keep it in a book under my bed to use it as blackmail. There are screenshots too.”

“Of course, there are. I would expect no less. Are they laminated? Labeled? Filed in really specific ways that I’ll never be 100% clear about but love you for anyway.”

“Naturally.”

They sat in relative silence, far more comforting than what she had experienced with his father earlier this morning. It was nice with him—but then again, everything was nice with the boy she was hopelessly in love with. The one she would always be hopelessly in love with.

“Jughead. I love you.”

He looked up from his fries, currently drenched in far too much ketchup for it to be healthy, and smiled. “I love you, too. But, I have to ask, what did you do that you don’t want me finding out about.”

For a moment, she contemplated lying. Lying was not her usual fallback plan, but she was scared of upsetting Jughead about a matter so delicate, so personal, especially when she already wanted to help him fix it. His father had asked her not to tell him about their exchange. So, she decided it best to downplay the truth a bit.

“I just…talked with someone this morning.”

“Uh huh, talked to who.”

“Oh, just someone.” He stared at her for a while until she couldn’t take the pressure and caved. “Your dad. I talked to your dad while I was there.”

Jughead frowned and swallowed his fry, picking up another to point at her. Even in the middle of a serious conversation, he couldn’t quell his appetite. It was endearing in some ways.

“Okay and? Why are you nervous about that. Of course, you talked to my dad, he works there, you’re bound to run into him sometimes. And it’s not like I have a problem with my dad. Or a big problem. He respects my space and gets that I’m basically living here with you right now. It’s a win-win-win situation for all of us. I get you, you get me, and he doesn’t have to share his trailer with an interloper he doesn’t really know.”

“He would love to get to know you.”

“And he will. One day. Over Skype, like normal father and sons who don’t really know each other that well do. We’ll occasionally talk about mundane shit like my new job or my college education until it becomes so uncomfortable for us that we’ll resort to texting ‘k’ and ‘sounds cool’ to each other when we decide to talk about tools since it’s the only common ground we have.”

She groaned, running a hand through her tight ponytail and giving it a tug to ease the headache already threatening to form. “There are so many things to unpack with that statement I don’t even know where to start.”

“The abandonment issues might be a great place but I’m not picky with my psychotherapy.”

Unable to stop herself, Betty picked up a french fry and threw it straight towards his head. She should have known the cocky little shit would be able to catch it in his between his teeth with a smirk.

“Whatever, Jug. You don’t even know how to use most tools.”

“You could teach me. We could make it a date?”

It was textbook Jughead to avoid his problems at all costs, and this was no exception. Despite his sweetness and the ease at which he transitioned between topics, she could tell the subject of his parents in general was causing him anxiety. He ate a little faster, picked at his food a little too much, and guzzled coffee like he was parched and it was the only way he could get water—which might actually have been true at this point in his young life.

Even when they were kids, he played this game. Other people’s problems were important. Betty’s were the absolute height of such, needing to be taken care of immediately and at all costs, even if it was a simple paper cut on her middle finger. But when it came to a little self-care, Jughead never liked to listen. If he could bottle up his feelings and die with them, he would, harboring grudges from as far back as kindergarten in the depths of his chest. He might even be buried with a bitter scowl if he kept at it.

But this wasn’t one of those times when Betty would just let it be, like it had been when him and Archie had broken each other’s baseball gloves during a fit of mutually assured pre-pubescent boy destruction. This time, she wanted him to open up and talk about his pain. Everyone deserved that luxury sometimes. He had spent many hours as she recited the same struggles with her mother a million times over, and now she would be his ear, his confidant, his support.

“Your dad told me a little bit about what’s happening with your mom.”

His expression immediately shifted into something as bitter as his black coffee. He set his food down and frowned. “Oh. Well he shouldn’t have done that.”

“Maybe not, but I asked him too. I’m worried about you, Juggie. Really, really worried. You’ve been avoiding me, the diner, your favorite things in the entire world because of what’s happening. Even Archie and Veronica can tell that you’ve been upset about something. Every time your mom calls, it’s like an angry dragon has been upset and at any moment you might be unleashed upon some unsuspecting Riverdale citizens.”

“Probably Archie.”

Betty laughed despite herself and reached for his hand, watching as her perfectly manicured pink nails peaked out from between his calloused fingers. It was the simple sights that made her happiest.

“Probably Archie,” she confirmed. “Now can we please talk about whatever is happening with your mom? It’s not healthy and I know you don’t like talking about things but we probably should. I’m your girlfriend, but more than that, I’m your best friend. You know every little thing Alice Cooper has done to piss me off in the past, right? So it’s only fair that I get to hear the same things about Gladys Jones.”

It took a few seconds of thought, but he finally started to open up. “But you already have, haven’t you? Didn’t Dad tell you all about the issues we’re having? It sucks Betty. It really sucks. I know we don’t always see eye to eye on everything, but I seriously love my mom, and I love my sister. Jellybean and I haven’t talked since these stupid arguments started happening and I’m pissed about it. Every time I call the house it’s either mom or my grandparents who answer, and they basically tell me to fuck off until I figure out what my problem is.”

“Well, have you figured out what your problem is? Not to say you’re doing anything wrong, but I mean in general.”

“It’s my mom. We’ve always fought. Nothing’s changed like that. We fight, we make up, we fight about the same shit again, we make up again; mostly because neither of us wants to upset JB too much. But then she struck a nerve. She’s never brought you up in fights before, but I guess she caught wind that you and I were dating and she’s furious about it. I think she always suspected I’d die a lonely old hermit, so I wouldn’t have the chance to ruin someone’s life like my dad ruined hers.”

“You didn’t—”

He stopped her with a squeeze. “Don’t, Betty. Just don’t. We all know it. Even JB knows that if he hadn’t been fucking stupid, everything would be better between us. First the teen pregnancy and then jail? We were a doomed family from the start. Which is seriously fine. I guess I get it. But now she’s doing what she always does and acting like I’m somehow going to turn out exactly like my father and I can’t take it. I can’t… take being accused my entire life. I know I’m a lot like him, but I am not him. I’m Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Third. Not the Second. The Third.”

The desperation in his voice nearly shattered her heart. She pulled him in for a tight hug and kissed him sweetly. “Juggie. Oh god, Juggie. I’m so sorry. But you’re you, not anyone else.”

“I know Betty. I just wish she could see that, too.”

As hard as it was to say, she knew she had to. “You need to talk to her, Jug. Open up about it. Don’t let her close off those feelings anymore okay? This is your moment, your chance, your opportunity. You’re worth so much and your feelings are worth having a conversation with your mom. Making sure  she finally listens to you. Understand?”

Jughead leaned over and kissed her sweetly. It was soft and shy, like it almost always was when he was being gentle with her. It was his thank you kiss. There were so many different kinds she was learning about, and each one made her more and more excited to figure out the next.

“Go. I promise I’ll stay here and not listen.”

With one last thank you, he picked up his phone and left the room. The last thing Betty could hear was him sigh and say, “Hey mom. We need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on tumblr @tory-b
> 
> I don't know if you're aware but i'm having a [1.6k follower giveaway](http://tory-b.tumblr.com/post/175758452958/tory-b-tory-b-tory-b-oh-my-god-i-know-i) if you are interested!
> 
> Also don't forget to check out @buggiebreak because it's Camp Bughead and we've got some amazing things going on!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead and Gladys have a come to Jesus and Betty and Jughead come to other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @bettcoopr and @redundantoxymoron for beta-ing this chapter! I know it was a bit of a tough one so really thank you <3
> 
> This fic is starting to sort of come to a close, but I still have no definite chapters for it so we'll see. Either way thank you for being on this wild ride with me guys! Hope you enjoy this one, because it's a built up to something...steamier next chapter ;)

“Hey, mom. We need to talk.”

It took all the courage he had in his chest to convince himself to make that phone call. Even at Betty’s behest, facing the wrath of his mother was not something Jughead enjoyed doing, especially in the midst of one of their passive aggressive non-arguments. Things with her had never been easy. Most days, he couldn’t bring himself to be as mad as he wanted to about it. This was not the life his mother had ever wanted—it had been thrust upon her.

Then again, this was not the life he wanted, either. The arguments, the pain, the constant sense  of unworthiness he felt even just looking in the mirror: This was not the life of a normal teenage boy. He should be more concerned with planning his prom-posal to Betty eight months in advance, and whether he would be traveling to Riverdale or if she would be coming to Toledo. 

He would definitely be going to Riverdale. The thought of her meeting his few stoner friends—especially Trula, who loved more than anything to harass him about his never-ending crush on Betty—was a terrifying one that he didn’t want to dwell on when he was already looking down the barrel of a gun. Or, in this case, down at his phone.

“I think we do,” Gladys remarked, voice curt and tight. “I think… I haven’t been a very good mother to you.”

Candidness was not usually in her repertoire. She liked to shift blame and accuse to keep him under her thumb, never admitting her own wrong doings. It was, unfortunately, a habit he had picked up from her. Being wrong left a bitter taste in his mouth, which was no doubt the reason for many of their more hostile encounters as of late.

“I couldn’t tell.”

“Don’t, Jughead. Don’t act like—”

“Act like what? Act like my father?” There was a pregnant pause on the end of the line. “That’s what you were going to say, isn’t it? That I’m acting like my father.”

Gladys sighed. “So that’s what this is about, then? This is about you getting mad at me for saying you’re like FP? You are. You’re so much like him, but maybe I’ve been only pointing out the bad things that you share with him. You’re also loyal like him, strong like him, and to the people you love, kind like him. I’ve only been pointing out the bad.”

He felt touched by her kindness— these were some of the few gentle words he had heard from his mother in a long time, maybe even ever. Even growing up, she had been tough on him. Perhaps it was that determination to see the reincarnation of the husband who had hurt her. Perhaps it was fear that he would instead become her: bitter, lonely, the ghost of someone who once thrived.

One of his strongest memories was of his mother grabbing him by the shoulders in a crowded shopping mall, dragging him outside, and screaming at him over the sound of his grandmother’s nagging and the loud yipping of the dogs. A few Target carts crashed in the distance, but all he could take in was the pain. A failure: that was what he had become, and so quickly. The words she berated him with would cling to him like lint on an old black t-shirt.

Useless.

Stupid.

Disobedient.

They were words that were repeated by his grandparents, who would always be cruel, even during the days his mother showed kindness. A functioning relationship was not something Jughead had ever had any concrete example of—whether it be romantic, platonic, or familial. Things in Toledo were just as dysfunctional as they had been in Riverdale, listening to his parent’s late-night feuds. Instead, he overhead conversations between his grandparents about just how unhappy they were to be supporting him. FP was a dark cloud hanging over his son’s existence, hanging, watching, a shadow that perforated his world.

Some days, Jughead sat worried that he would become how they had all predicted. When he thought about one day getting married, the weight of all those bad decisions his parents made sat heavy on his chest. With every drink he took at a party, or every joint he smoked to calm his nerves, a part of him wondered if he would ever be able to put it down. When Betty kissed him, a small part of his mind—the part that was filled with his worries, his fears, his faults— would imagine a future where he hurt her like his father hurt his mother. A future where the two of them ached and cried and spent sleepless nights in a state of lost love.

But then she would smile at him and those fears would melt away. They were not and would never be their parents, not if he had anything to say about it. With that conviction established and placed firmly at the forefront of his mind, Jughead vowed he would never let anyone make him feel that way again: not his mother, not his grandparents, and especially not himself.

“Then why do you keep comparing me to him like it’s a bad thing, like you know that I’m going to be some fuck up just because I’ve got the same name and half of the same DNA? No matter what I do, you hate it. I have never, not in my entire life, made you proud.”

“That’s not… you know that’s not true. You have to know that’s not true.”

“But I don’t!” He felt the tears in his eyes. “I don’t feel like that at all. When, in recent memory, can you point out a time that you ever said you were proud of me? A good grad on a test? The news that I’m going to graduate? My relationship with Betty? Tell me one time, Mom, and then maybe I’ll be more inclined to believe you.”

Gladys sighed. “I never mean to make you feel that way. You know I love you.”

“You keep saying that. You keep saying that I know something. But maybe I don’t. There’s only so many times you can take never being told something to stop believing in it.”

“I didn’t…” The line went quiet. There was nothing but the gentle intake of air as Jughead sat on the front steps of Betty’s classic white picket-fenced home, fighting back the tears threatening to spill in his eyes.

“I didn’t ever mean to hurt you. But I realize now that I did anyway. I’m taking out all these fears I have on you. I don’t want you and Betty to end up like your dad and I did, the thought absolutely terrifies me. I want you to have everything we never did. I want you both to go to prom without it being town gossip because there’s a baby between you when you dance. I want you to go to college and enjoy it without worrying about everything. I want you to get a job you love and not tie yourself to that town because it’s where she is. That’s not fair for you to get caught up in , and it’s not fair to her either.”

“Stop assuming. We aren’t you. Betty and I are our own separate people with our own separate thoughts and lives. We don’t know exactly where it’s all going yet, but that should be okay. It is okay. I’ve been in love with her since we were kids and I just wanted to have one summer where things were good and normal before we each had to go back to the bullshit of everything. But that happiness only ended up bringing more bullshit.”

Jughead sighed. “You know it was her that made me call, right? Because I wasn’t going to. I appreciate you being worried about my girlfriend, Mom. In a weird way, it’s kind of sweet. But how about you trust me to be  my own person, with enough cognitive thought and restraint to avoid getting her pregnant? Whatever we have going on we’ll figure it out, but that’s between us. Not you or Alice or Dad or anyone else. Just us.”

But the feelings wouldn’t stop as every part of him he’d locked away bubbled to the surface, past his intensely crafted walls and straight to his mouth.

“I’m sick and tired of you assuming the worst of me. For me. You’re my mom and you’re supposed to be supportive. You’re supposed to try and guide me down the right path and not just sit and scold me about how terrible of a person I am or how terrible of a person you think I could maybe, possibly, under the right circumstances, become. I needed… I need you to support me.”

“You’re right.”

It was shocking to hear her say it. Never had she allowed him to be in the right. Sometimes they would come to vague understandings, where the subject was pushed under an ever-growing rug in a vain attempt to mask the pain that came with many of their arguments, later to be pulled out and hung to dry in the open when neither of them could fully let it go. Sometimes they would just ignore it, bottle it up until it festered like this did and rotted them from the core. All those things, piled up, led  them to where they were now. Broken. Unhappy. A mother and son strayed so far from the typical path that he wondered if they would ever find their way back again.

“I’m sorry that I ever made you feel that way,” Gladys continued. “I’m sorry I’m a terrible mother, because I am, to you at least. I never learned how to raise a boy and I just let everyone else take the lead because I didn’t know what to do. But that wasn’t fair to you or me or whatever relationship we could ever have had. If we could even. I’m sorry I was such a bad mother to you and I hope that one day you can forgive me.”

Her words touched him, and the tears came despite how badly he wanted to keep them away. The admittance that this was not him, it was her, brought a wash of relief as the tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding left his body in a single, deep sigh. “Mom, I--”

“I’m not finished. And listen to me before you jump to conclusions. I don’t think you should come home. I’m not sure that this is a place, Ohio, my parents’ home, any of it, is a place that you can thrive the way you were always meant to, Jug. I’m going to talk with your father about letting you move in with him.”

Jughead wasn’t sure what he felt—relief, fear, or sadness. Toledo had been his home for a long time and he had adjusted to it. There were a few friends he clung to tightly, and it was an environment he was used to, even if he didn’t love it. Change that severe, especially as senior year approached, was startling. Would Riverdale even accept him again? He had learned just how much had changed over the past few years.

It was hard to imagine a place for him in this town. Betty’s friends had—surprisingly—accepted him without much thought. Especially Cheryl, who he had been texting more than Archie, even if most of the messages were passive aggressive snide comments, and him occasionally asking what Betty’s favorite flowers were. But having friends did not immediately mean that this was the world he was meant to be in. There was still the matter of his strained, albeit it slowly healing relationship with his father. Moving to Riverdale would mean moving in with FP Jones. That was a terrifying thought.

During most of his childhood, Jughead had put a lot of faith in his father as someone who could be trusted, despite all evidence to the contrary . He wanted his father to be good, so that meant he had to be. Would be. But that childish naïveté did not live any longer in his heart. The last few years of his life had turned him into a cynic. FP was getting better; he was healing. At least, that’s what he promised was happening, but there had been a lot of false promises in his childhood too.

Growing up, FP couldn’t commit to even the most menial of things. Jughead couldn’t count on all his toes and fingers just how many times there had been promises of ice cream, soccer games, and family outings that had gone unfulfilled. It probably lingered somewhere around the number of pizza boxes that accumulated in their trash can when his mother was out working and his father was out getting drunk.

The thought of placing trust back in his father’s hands was scary. Moving from Toledo could easily become an out of the frying pan and into the fire type situation. But then he thought about his girlfriend, a shining north star, always leading him in the direction he needed to go with a gentle push and a delicate smile. Here in Riverdale, he would not have to leave her side.

“Can I think about it?” He asked finally, his brain filled to bursting with what-ifs and tangential thoughts.

“Of course. I’d really like you to. I hope it doesn’t seem like I’m trying to kick you out, because I’m not. You know I love you so much, but I don’t want you to be stuck in a house and a town you hate just because I’m forcing you to be here. And maybe, maybe it’ll be good for us. You’re still my son no matter what. And I should tell you that I love you more than I do.”

He sniffled and wiped the tears from his eyes. Shaking, Jughead felt a smile form on his lips. Maybe they were finally on their way to fixing some of the mess that had been created. “I know you do. But I think it also wouldn’t hurt if I said ‘I love you too’ a little more.”

“I’m sorry this is so messy. And tell Betty thank you for me, for helping my son forgive me a little more. Jellybean thinks I should send her an edible arrangement, but we all know you’d eat it instead.”

“Yeah, I probably would.” The air felt clearer as he breathed, washing away all the worries that had been slowly accumulating over the last few months—or maybe even the last few years—of his life. “I should go. Betty and I have plans at the drive-in I think. They’re playing Hitchcock tonight.”

“You wouldn’t want to miss that, would you? I love you, Jug. Have a good day. Maybe… text me tonight and tell me how the date was?”

“Yeah. I will. Love you too, and I promise I’ll talk to you soon.”

Jughead sat in silence when the line went dead, breathing as steadily as he could and listening to the low howl of the slightly windy morning. Even when the door opened and shut he didn’t bother to move. He felt Betty beside him before he saw her. Her gentle hands reached out and took his, placing a gentle kiss to his knuckles.

They didn’t speak, not for a long time anyway, far too comfortable in the gentle companionship of each other to bother moving. After a bit of deliberation, he decided he wouldn’t tell her about his mother’s offer. Not yet, anyway. Not until he had some time to think it over for himself. Moving back to Riverdale was a big decision to make. As much as he wanted to be close to her, craved it more than anything, this was something that would be up to him to figure out.

“How was it?” she asked finally.

He shrugged, pulling her in closer. “It was fine. Maybe it was good. It’s hard to tell with her, you know? Our relationship is just so messed up that what I think might be good isn’t always. But in our definition, it was good. We’re not mad at each other anymore.”

“That’s great, Juggie. I’m so glad. Thank you for talking to her for me. I just didn’t want to see you hurting anymore because of this. You deserve to be happy just as much as everyone else does.”

“Thank you. For convincing me that this was something I needed to do. Even if it made me sick.”

“For someone who loves being the strong revolutionary, confrontation sure does make you nauseous a lot,” Betty teased, planting a kiss on his lips.

“Einstein was an atomic genius, doesn’t mean he wanted to make the bomb.” When she stared at him, blinking a few times at his strange analogy, he laughed. “I said what I said. Don’t overthink it or it’ll give you a headache.”

“Oh? Is that what you do? That explains why you don’t think about anything before you say it.”

Jughead chased her back inside, Betty squealing with excitement as he picked her up and tossed her onto the couch. It was the kind of laughter that he had always wished filled the homes he occupied. There would always be smiles when she was around. With Betty, he was home. He’d think on that a little longer when it was time to sit down and make his final decision, but for now, he was simply going to enjoy their day together, one where teenage glee would be the single emotion he would experience. Except for maybe reverence when the iconic images of the classic horror film  _ Pyscho  _ filled the large drive-in screen.

“I love you, Betty Cooper,” he whispered against her lips. Whatever she wanted to say died on his tongue as they tangled together on the old stained couch. Jughead had a pretty good idea of what it was anyway.

In the hours leading up to their drive-in date, Jughead was forced to endure another round of text messages in the group chat he’d been trapped in. Sometimes it was fun to watch them all in a panic, but when it was keeping Betty from giving him the kisses he so craved, it was more annoying than entertaining.

**Kevin:**

_ If it’s Hitchcock night does this mean I get full permission to slip out to the bleachers and make out with Moose? Or is it tasteless to do that while Jamie Lee Curtis’ mom is getting stabbed to death by an insane mama’s boy. _

**Cheryl:**

_ Your priorities endlessly terrify me. _

_ But all is fair in love and sex. _

**Archie:**

_ Don’t listen to Cheryl she has no soul. _

**Jughead:**

_ Takes one to know one, Ginger Judas. _

**Archie:**

_ Jug. Man. We are supposed to be friends and I’m not feeling very friendly towards you right now. _

**Jughead:**

_ If that’s your way of finally admitting your undying love for me then truly, Archibald, I’m more than flattered. But you’re a little too late. A blonde goddess has recently swept me off my feet and I fear I will never love another man again. _

**Veronica:**

_ He said GODDESS, Kevin did you screenshot it for their wedding slide? _

**Kevin:**

_ I’m insulted you would insinuate that I wasn’t twelve steps ahead of you. _

Betty laughed beside him, leaning over and giving him a gentle kiss as her hand traced along the thick fabric of his jeans. He wished they were thinner. And that they didn’t have to leave for the movies in a few minutes because—and he cursed himself for even proclaiming this now—“We have to leave soon or all the good parking spots will be taken”.

“Don’t tease him so much, Jug, or he’s going to get a complex.”

“Are you meaning to tell me that Archie doesn’t already have a complex? Have you met him? He’s got twelve of them, all somewhere on the hero spectrum, but complexes all the same. He’d be the protagonist in any story that everyone refers to as their big dumb son while they write in depth analyses of his sometimes-backwards character arc.”

**Archie:**

_ Are we meeting you guys at the drive-in tonight? _

_ There was a pause and then another message from him came through. _

**Archie:**

_ And by that, I mean, Veronica has informed me that you are going to be enjoying your ‘alone time’ tonight. Whatever that means. _

_ Kevin, the well-meaning chaos man he was, sent three eggplant emojis. Cheryl sent a single peach. _

**Archie:**

_ Gross, forget I said anything. I won’t see you tonight or ever, because I’m going to be busy drinking bleach. _

Jughead laughed and stood. “Let’s just let him stew in that one for a while. Are you ready to go?”

“Yep! Here’s my keys.”

“You sure about this?” He asked, catching the metal she had tossed at him with only a little awkwardness. “I know your car is your baby.”

“I trust you enough not to wreck her. Don’t disappoint me? Besides, you know the best spots at the drive-in still, so I think you’re better suited at getting us a good spot than I am. One maybe a little further away from the gang?”

As much as Jughead liked Betty’s friends—who were, he had to remind himself, his friends too—there was something tempting about the alone time that Archie had mentioned. It was different, being alone at her house versus alone on a date. A date carried much weightier implications than just sitting on the couch and seeing how many times he could catch the popcorn she tossed at him in his mouth. A date meant that kisses were expected and he had to at least put on the front of being gentlemanly, even if she knew better than to believe that. A date always felt a lot more serious.

Getting into her car, he couldn’t help but laugh, searching around for the lever that would push it back even just a little, so he didn’t feel like he was trapped in a shoebox while driving to the theatre. Of course, even in a car Betty would sit as primly and properly as possible. After a little wiggling, he was finally comfortable, placing his hand on her bare thigh and giving a little squeeze before they set out for the Twilight Drive-In.

The drive-in was just like he remembered it. Naturally, his two favorite things would be a relic from the past and a place that served him the best burgers in town. Having Betty accompany him to either was just an added bonus, the cherry on top of the sundae. They got a spot exactly where he wanted, a few rows back but not far enough away that the jeeps and trucks would be blocking their view.

“You want popcorn?”

Betty nodded and plucked out a few dollars from her wallet. “A coke too, if you don’t mind. And some Twizzlers for us to share?”

“I’m getting Red Vines because I don’t hate us.”

“Twizzlers are good, Juggie!”

“Yeah, just like your Samsung is totally as functional as an iPhone. Sure. If you wanted to lie to yourself today, you should have just told me, and I would have said you looked horrible in that dress.”

Despite his teasing, he loved watching Betty blush and fidget with the sundress she’d slipped on for their date tonight. It made her smile in a way that always sent his heart flutter. With one last kiss, he was off to the concession stand before it got too crowded or he missed even a second of Hitchcock magic. A part of him felt an eerie stab of familiarity upon seeing the guy at the register—the same kind he got going anywhere in this town. Maybe they knew each other in middle school.

Every step he took around Riverdale felt haunted with the past. The trailer park, Pop’s, even the drive in were not safe from it. Thinking about the transfer to Riverdale High, the place he had always imagined he would end up graduating from, felt nauseating. High school was already terrible. Could he handle a mid-year transfer to a place that would no doubt make him the talk of the town? Not that he already wasn’t. Lots of people looked at him and whispered, remembering the awkward boy from their elementary school days who had picked up and run out of town with his mom when his dad ended up in prison.

A few Serpents spotted him on his way back to the car and waved. Everyone knew him here. It was an unsettling reality that he would have to learn to cope with if this was to be his home. But maybe he could make it through a year of awkwardness if it meant spending that time with Betty by his side. They could hold hands and go on dates and spend as much time together as they wanted, without the fear of a faulty Skype call losing their connection or Alice turning off her phone in retribution for an A- on an exam. The more he thought about it, the less he hated the idea.

“I’m back.” Jughead sat the popcorn in her lap, watching as the lights flickered on and they started to play a commercial about the food and drink on special. “Damn it I should have grabbed a hot dog.”

“You can always go back later, during the break between films. Pay attention to me now.”

“Like I could keep my eyes off of you.”

Betty smiled brightly, resting her head on his shoulder as the opening scene of the black and white classic flickered on screen. Honestly, he should be appalled at himself for not paying better attention to the film, even if he had seen it a million times. But with his girlfriend right next to him, in a short skirt no less, there wasn’t a part of him that didn’t find it difficult to not train his eyes on her and only her. It was impossible to shift focus.

The rise and fall of her chest made him shiver. Remembering the lingerie she’d picked out at the department store on their first date, he wondered if she has purposefully picked something so low cut. They had been talking about it more and more, the possibility of going further than hurried kisses and PG 13 grope fests on the couch. Lately he’d been so conditioned to kiss her during the movies—there were a lot of those PG 13 grope fests taking place in front of some sort of film—that it was hard to ignore that desire now. Like Pavlov’s dog, he was drooling in the face of something he wanted. That little minx!

His hand snuck down, tracing along the curve of her waist until it was resting on her thigh. Gently, Jughead traced little patterns, mostly hearts. If he was going to be a lech, he might as well be a sweet one. She didn’t seem to mind, even daring to move a bit closer, so his hand hiked up underneath her flared skirt. With a smile up at him and a kiss on his cheek, Betty lifted up the arm rest and wiggled as close as the parking brake would allow. His breath hitched, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

To say that Jughead was always hungry would be an accurate analysis. He was always hungry for food, especially burgers, hot dogs, or anything that had recently come out of a deep fryer—except Oreos. Those things were an abomination of nature. He was also hungry for justice, with a passion for righting wrongs and protesting changes in the classroom. This had especially upset his third-grade teacher Mrs. Flannigan, who was not too fond of an eight-year-old attempting to lead a revolution just because she wanted them to write in blue pen instead of black. But lately, his appetite had evolved into something a little different, and all he craved was to be buried between the supple white thighs of Betty Cooper and feast on her like she was his last supper.

Good news was, his girlfriend didn’t seem to mind. Not that they’d done a lot. On one of their more intimate encounters he had ended up where he wanted, kissing and nipping at her sensitive flesh until she’d screamed his name and fisted his hair so hard he might still have a bald patch. It had been wonderful. Miraculous. That was until Veronica called her and they jumped apart faster than a rat stuck in crossed electrical wires. Veronica was currently  _ very  _ high on his shit list. Right there next to Mrs. Flannigan, honestly.

But he wanted more. And he was starting to think that she did too. There was only so much more they could take of confused grinding and fumbled touches before the desire manifested into something greater. Something stronger. Something that hopefully involved him showing off just how quickly he could slip on a condom—ten seconds from package tear, which was something he had learned during a moment of high stupidity that he was still quite fuzzy on the details about. Surely, it must have involved a dare from Trula and a few too many beers to go with his joints. That was the night he had also been acutely aware of his eyebrows, so it was truly magical.

Betty wiggled closer, planting a kiss to the curve of his jawline like she always did right before things started to go from chaste and gentle to hot and heavy. If Alfred Hitchcock himself had crawled out of his grave and beat Jughead with a stick for not paying attention to his film, he could not bring it in himself to give a single fuck as she crawled into his lap, pretty face and perfect blonde hair completely blocking his view of the screen. They connected in a heated kiss. Her tongue traced his chapped lips, begging for access, which he readily gave her. In the cramped front seat, they became tangled together.

His hand slipped under her dress again as the other made its way to her chest, squeezing the tender flesh through the light, bug-patterned fabric. Betty moaned against him and pressed her body closer to his. Every time they pulled apart she whispered his name into the night air. It was the only sound he heard, even as the iconic thrum of violins filled the cramped drive-in lot.

Quickly, she pulled down her shirt, letting her perky breasts spill forward. He groaned and moved his mouth right where it needed to be, sucking at her skin until it turned purple with bruises. Jughead had never thought himself to be a particularly possessive guy, but when it came to her, it was the only thought in the forefront of his mind. She cursed and groaned and rocked against him as they danced toward an increasing need for friction.

The pleasure made her bend, arching her back until all he could taste was the salt on her skin and the desperation in her veins. He felt it too. And then, just as the knife plunged downward for the first time and screams echoed throughout the theatre, so too did  the loud blare of Betty’s old car horn, alerting the audience to their less than innocent ministrations. She jumped forward, clinging to his shoulders as those in the cars beside them shouted and tossed various movie snacks at their windows.

“Oh my god, that’s mortifying,” she whispered against his neck, burying her face in his shoulder to try and hide from the frustrated crowd.

Jughead couldn’t help but laugh. His phone dinged, and he picked it up, panting and holding her close despite the rational part of his brain telling him to separate before anything else happened and they were met with something a little more painful than stale popcorn from the audience.

**Kevin:**

_ BETTY COOPER WAS THAT YOUR CAR. _

_ Don’t lie to me I know it was. _

_ I recognize that sound anywhere. _

_ I am so proud of you right now. _

_ I think Veronica is crying tears of joy. _

_ So is Cheryl. _

_ Archie’s vomiting into the popcorn. _

_ You guys are iconic. _

_I. CON. IC!_

“Does Kevin always do this?” Jughead asked.

“What? Pry into people’s personal lives in a creepy yet endearing way?”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely. This is him being restrained, trust me.”

He laughed, shaking his head as their breath began to steady and even out, heads pressed together. Pulled to her like a magnet, Jughead couldn’t resist the softness of her skin. Betty didn’t move either.

She leaned forward and whispered against his skin. “Jughead. Do you want to go home?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, follow me on tumblr @tory-b <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty and Jughead finish what was started at the movies with some steamy results and some real talks. Featuring: a subtle praise kink no one knows they have, post-coital cuddling, and some general in love silly teasing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is starting it's easy decent into finality. I suspect one or two more chapters at most, though I don't have them planned. I do have a fic that will be replacing this which is just as soft though, in my opinion, my first real dive into humor writing. I want to thank @bettscoopr aka my lovely gal Lyss for beta-ing this chapter (as well as that other I just mentioned, cough). We make a really good team and I'm glad you're here to help me out with it <3 I hope you guys enjoy!

Betty had never seen Jughead drive anywhere so fast in his life. With her hand tracing gentle circles along his thigh--something she’d once seen in a movie and was happy to know that it worked--she tried hard to focus on anywhere but his face. It was terrifying to think about, the fact that they were headed home to finally finish the heavy-handed grope sessions they’d had numerous times on the couch. There was a pretty black set of lingerie just waiting for her in the bottom of her drawer. Thinking about showing it off to Jughead sent a thrill up her spine and a spark of excitement in her chest.

 

As her house came into view, that excitement morphed into something unrecognizable, a low hunger boiling at her core as she studied his lips and wonder what it would feel like to have him between her legs. That want only intensified as they stumbled into the dimly lit living room and his hands found her waist. He circled her with a tight embrace, pressing them impossibly close until all the air had left her lungs and found its way into his. They stood together in the open space, lost in lips and feather light touches on hot skin. After a moment of fumbling, Jughead found the zipper on her dress. Slowly, inch by inch, the fabric came undone, pooling at her feet and leaving her utterly exposed for him.

 

“Wait!” Betty pushed him back harder than she meant to. “Oh God. Jug, I’m sorry, I don’t want to stop or anything. I mean I do. Just for a second. I want to… Just meet me in my bedroom in five minutes, okay?”

 

He seemed confused, nervous even. At least they were on the same page with that one. After a second too long pause that made Betty nearly forget to breath, he nodded, pulling at his t-shirt. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll meet you up there. Five minutes.”

 

She kissed his cheek as a thank you before running up as quickly as she could. Her room was somewhat of a mess from this morning, but she tried not to let that bother her. Jughead had seen her room looking worse before. And hell, he had been sleeping in it lately, so no doubt at least some of the chaos was his fault. From the pits of her dresser, she pulled out the lingerie, her fingers lingering over the lace material as she steeled her nerves for what was about to happen.

 

Five minutes, in retrospect, was not a particularly long time for what she had planned, but it was all she could afford them tonight. If they waited any longer, wrapped up in anxieties, what ifs, and how longs, they might end up talking themselves out of it. At least, that’s what Betty feared. Hopefully, letting loose would quiet the loud worries gnawing away at her mind. She wanted to do this. She wanted to do this with Jughead. That’s all there was to it.

 

In the bathroom, she kicked off her pink underwear, assessing herself once in the mirror. She couldn’t help but worry about what Jughead would think when he saw her. She knew about Trula, that she and Jughead had some sort of relationship once upon a time. Would he internally compare them? Betty had never met the girl, only seen her in pictures, but she was pretty in the same way Cheryl was. She was sexy. Betty was pretty in other ways.

 

That was another worry she didn’t have time for. Tonight was about nothing more than having sex with her boyfriend, her best friend, her everything, whom she loved more than most things on this earth, even more than the sweet smell of fresh honeysuckle. There was no room for anything else. Slowly, she dressed herself in the apparel she bought specifically this occasion. In it, she felt powerful, and even dared to snap a picture of herself and send it to Kevin and Veronica for approval, which came instantaneously.

 

**Veronica:**

_ Yes. YES. YESSS. _

 

**Kevin:**

_ It is the rise of Betty. We bow down to her sexual prowess. _

_ Also be safe and wear a condom. _

_ I’m too young to be the favorite uncle. _

 

Satisfied by the praise of her friends, Betty dared one more step forward. She pulled out a tube of red lipstick and slowly ran it across her lips. It caught on the dry patches--no doubt Jughead’s handiwork from their impromptu makeout session during the climax of  _ Psycho. _ Properly painted, she felt invincible, maybe even sexy.

 

“Betty?” she heard Jughead from the other side of the door, his voice cracking in anticipation. “You okay in there?”

 

“Yeah. I’m great. Better than great.”

 

Looking at herself in the mirror, a vision in black and red,, something stirred in her stomach. Powerful. That’s how she felt. This was the moment where she gave a part of herself to Jughead, and he gave just as much in return. This was how it was meant to go. She just knew it. 

 

Quickly, she pulled a condom from the box under her sink--a present from Polly when Jughead started sleeping over. Kevin was right, they were in absolutely no place to be having children.

 

It was scary to think that two months ago she had never even been kissed. Like some Drew Barrymore disaster she was pining after someone she thought she never had a chance in hell with. And now here she was. Dressed in lingerie, lips painted cherry red, and a smile so wide she thought her face might burst. She felt unstoppable. Invincible. And the night had only just begun.

 

When she walked out of the bathroom, she took her time approaching the bed, a cheshire cat grin slowly spreading across her lips. Jughead was seated on her comforter, shirt and jeans discarded in a pile on the ground. Seeing him waiting there for her made her toes curl and her chest tingle. Betty was more than ready for this moment.

 

“I heard you were a bad boy today, Juggie.” Her voice was low and steady. “Playing naughty games at the drive-in when we were supposed to be watching our movie. That wasn’t very nice of you, was it?”

 

She watched his Adam's apple bob and his eyes blow wide. He reached out cautiously, pulling her close and planting a kiss on her lips. It was sweet. Gentle. The perfect precursor to a night of hedonistic pleasure. She nipped at his bottom lip, an invitation for their tongues to tangle in a heated kiss.

 

“Bad boy? I think you could call me that,” he whispered against her skin, pulling her down against his cock, already hard. Betty gasped, rocking down in a desperate search for friction, to feel any part of him. Already she was addicted to him.

 

“I already did. And bad boys have to wait for good things.”

 

Maybe she was rehearsing lines from a porno she had watched the other day, one of her favorites that lived out a wild fantasy of a woman on top of her man as he worshipped her with heavy kisses and tantalizing touches. It was one of those little pleasures she kept to herself, even from Jughead. Sure, in theory she knew he was likely just as guilty of illicit, late-night moments alone, but thinking about it felt strange. Dirty. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine what it might look like when he was alone, his hand wrapped around his cock, her name falling from his lips again and again like some sort of spell. It made her feel powerful.

 

“Betty,” Jughead groaned. “What am I waiting for?”

 

She took his little sounds as encouragement to continue her fantasy. But then, like a trying to catch a wet snake with her bare hands, she lost grip of and forget her lines. After days of rehearsing them in the mirror--secret sessions with her hand on her clit while he was busy with his dad--Betty had forgotten the next part of her role play. She felt like an idiot. Warmth spread to her cheeks and she started to stutter. All the power from before was zapped away in a single instant.

 

“Um...you’re waiting for...you’re waiting for me?”

 

Her voice tightened and he started to laugh. Already she had gone and fucked it up. Things were going so well when she was acting, pretending to be someone else so she could enjoy their moment together. But now she’d fumbled her words in the last inning and felt like a fool in front of him.

 

“Betty, what are you doing?”

 

Resting her head in the crook of his neck, she groaned. “Trying to be sexy?”

 

“You don’t need to try that hard. I already think you’re the sexiest person in the entire world. No questions asked, no doubts in my mind.”

 

“Really? You do?”

 

“Of course I do. You don’t have to try so hard, okay? I mean, I certainly don’t mind this little getup,” he said, pulling on the string of her panties and smiling. Betty couldn’t help but giggle. “But you don’t have to pretend like you’re not you. Because I’m here because I want you. You, Betty. So let’s be us. Even if it’s messy and confusing.”

 

Feeling more relaxed, she nodded, pulling him in for another heated kiss. They fell together easier this time as they fumbled to explore every exposed plane of skin. He latched on to her neck quickly, peppering it in dark hickies she would later have to find a way to hide from the prying eyes of Veronica Lodge and Kevin Keller. If they spotted even a single mark on her she would never hear the end of it. A part of her wouldn’t mind that, though.

 

He fumbled with the clasp of her bra, cursing when it didn’t fall off effortlessly. “Why is there no hook in the back? There’s supposed to be a hook in the back.”

 

Betty giggled and motioned to the front. Hidden behind the lace was a small hook that kept the cups pressed firmly together. Jughead rolled his eyes. 

 

“That’s cheating and you know it.”

 

“Or is it just wickedly clever? Make you work for what you want most.”

 

“I think I’ve done a hell of a lot of working.” Their eyes met, his fingers hovering over the hidden clasp. “Can I?”

 

They had done this part before. It wouldn’t be the first time her breasts would be laid bare for him, but things felt different this time. Tonight wouldn’t just be a PG-13 grope session interrupted by nosy friends and family. Tonight would be something special. Something more. “Yeah. Yeah, you can. I want all of you. And you can have all of me.”

 

With a single snap, she was exposed. Carefully, she put the fabric neatly on the side of the bed, where it wouldn’t be crushed in what would surely be a hurried affair once things really got started. It was expensive after all, and she’d like to wear it again. Maybe during one of their Skype calls when he was back in Toledo. Betty tucked that thought away for later.

 

Jughead always took his time with her, even in the areas he had already memorized. He knew how to make her squirm in his lap, rubbing down against his hard cock as his mouth worked wonders on her sensitive pink nub. With the utmost care, he worshipped her. It wasn’t exactly like what she had watched, not as explicit, not as dirty, not as messy. But maybe this was better. It was them.

 

“J-Juggie!” 

 

She felt his hand creep down, slipping under the waistband of her panties and tracing a finger along the ever-growing wetness between her thighs. Sinfully slow, he pushed the lace away and began rubbing circles on her clit. Betty felt her mind go blank. 

 

“Oh, Jesus Christ!”

 

“No, just Jughead, but you were close.”

 

For a moment, she did her best to glare, but that was short lived as she felt his finger slowly press inside of her. It was a slight stretch, certainly bigger than her own fingers, but not uncomfortable. She took a deep breath and kissed him again.

 

“Cheeky.”

 

“You love it.”

 

“I love you.”

 

He smiled against her lips and kissed her again as he worked his finger slowly inside of her. It was purposeful, gentle, loving, the way he worked so delicately to stretch her for him. 

 

The search history on her phone--at least if you somehow managed to see the previous sites last visited on her million incognito tabs--were filled with first time tips and tricks. They had talked about it, at least casually, the important things to remember. Jughead was no virgin, she knew that much, but to call him experienced would be a lie. Out of the few and far between escapades in his history, he had only dared to take it all the way twice. So, their best bet was hours of indepth research. As embarrassing and awkward as it had been, it was certainly paying off now.

 

Another gasp filled the quickly-heating space as she felt her body shift to accommodate the second of his long fingers. It was tight at first, but with the sweet attention he gave her clit, Betty began to relax again, moaning as her hips worked in circles to chase the high of her pleasure.

 

“Don’t stop,” she begged. “Juggie, please don’t stop.” But he did, and before she could help herself, she was pressing her pussy against him, chasing her pleasure in every way that she could, a low whine pulling from somewhere deep at her very core. Embarrassed, she pulled back. “Sorry, I’m sorry, that was…”

 

He pulled her close for kiss that stole her breath. “Impossibly, incredibly sexy. That’s what the rest of that sentence is. Trust me, I’m a writer. But if you keep making those noises I’m not going to last to the end, so…”

 

“Oh! Oh, right, I should. I have it here somewhere.” Betty stood and walked towards the dresser where she’d placed the condom. Aware that she had a mischievous set of eyes watching her, she exaggerated the sway in her hips. “Right here.”

 

When she turned around, it wasn’t  the way the cold air made Jughead’s exposed shaft twitch, or even the fact that he had removed his boxers that caught her attention. It was the grey socks he still had on, knitted with little pepperoni pizzas on them. They were his “lucky” socks he’d had since sometime in middle school. Whenever he had an important test coming up, or snuck his name in for a raffle, he would put them on. A part of her felt honored that he’d deemed tonight a pizza sock night. Another part of her--the way bigger part, the rational part--was simply offended that he had not bothered to take them off.

 

“Jug…”

 

He followed her gaze down and she watched his cheeks turn a brilliant shade of maroon. “Oh. Right. That’s weird isn’t it?”

 

“Well...I once read that if you put them on it could increase your ability to orgasm.”

 

“Where’d you read that? The Huffington Post?” 

 

Betty opened her mouth to protest but found herself unable to. “I...Maybe. But that’s not the problem. I watched you wear those socks to our third grade music concert where we played the recorder. They’re a bit of a mood-killer.”

 

“Oh. Right. I’ll just…” The socks quickly joined the ever growing pile of clothes on her floor, followed closely by Betty’s underwear.

 

For a moment, they both simply stood there, gazes locked on one another. Betty allowed herself time to devour every inch of him: the patch of hair around his cock that matched the curls on his head, the lean muscles on his body from the occasional manual labor jobs he picked up when money was tight. Finally, she settled on his eyes, green and beautiful and so full of love for her she felt her heart skip a beat. She reached out and pulled him into a kiss.

 

“I love you, Juggie. I’m glad I’m sharing this with you. I’m glad you were my first kiss, my first touch, my first time, my first everything. I want you to be my last, too. My first and last.”

 

“Betty, if I have it my way, I’ll be your only. I finally got you, after years and years of waiting and working and trying, we finally got it together and stumbled into each other at the right time. I’m sorry I… I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you.”

 

She frowned and shook her head. “No. Don’t be sorry. You couldn’t have been expected to just sit there when you thought I wasn’t interested. That’s not fair. And it doesn’t even matter because now we’ve got each other and I am not ever letting you go. When you go back to Toledo, they’ll have to pry you out of my hands.”

 

Something unreadable flashed across his expression, but it was gone before she could linger too much on it. He was holding her impossibly close and she could feel his erection pressed against her thigh. They kissed for what felt like an eternity, lost in each other and the simple pleasure of touch, until, finally, he pulled back panting and guided them both onto the bed.

 

Betty felt the tin packet in her hand, twisting it over and over again as the reality of the situation finally settled onto her shoulders. After tonight, she knew things would be different. She ripped the package in half with finality and pulled out the condom. She had never seen one before. It felt strange to the touch, wet, rubbery. Her mother hadn’t signed the waiver that allowed her to enjoy the privileges of the messy US sexual education classes--as few as there were, anyway--stating that she would not allow her young daughters mind to be “corrupted so easily”. So instead, she had sat out in the quad with the two other students with strict parents, making a presentation all about lung disease that no one in the class even bothered to act interested in. Except for Jughead. He’d given her a little wave and a thumbs up as encouragement. She’d blushed for two days straight after that. God, they were both so stupidly blind even back then.

 

Slowly, so the shaking in her hands would not be so obvious, Betty rolled the condom down his hard cock, fascinated by the way it stretched to accommodate his girth. It was wet from the lube and now her hands were, too. There was nowhere else to wipe them but on her bed before she cautiously made her way over to him. She was on her knees, perched with her pussy over his cock their heavy breathing perforated the atmosphere.

 

“You’re sure. Right, Betty?” Jughead asked, taking her hand in his and kissing her open palm.

 

She nodded and began sinking down onto him. It was a sharp pain at first, a tight pull that made her legs nearly give out from underneath her. Jughead held her up, squeezing her shoulders gently in reassurance, even as his face contorted in pleasure. She felt… she couldn’t exactly describe how she felt. Strange. Full. Stretched to her breaking point again and again until she finally bottomed out against him.

 

“Jesus Christ.”

 

Just by looking at him, she could tell her boyfriend was practically delirious with pleasure. When they were alone together, intimate like this, he was an open book, so beautifully written and only for her to bare witness to. 

 

“No. Just Betty. But you were close.” In a desperate attempt to ease the pain with laughter, she winked.

 

He smiled and kissed her. It helped, even just a little, to distract her mind until she felt comfortable enough to move. It happened all at once: the building pressure, the need for him to move, the first roll of her hips as she clung onto something impossibly wonderful. Jughead groaned, tightening his hold on her hips and guiding her forward.

 

“Is that good? Am I good, Juggie?”

 

Betty needed the praise, wanted nothing more than to hear sweet words fall from his lips as they rocked together. His movements were a bit frantic, even as he tried to steal himself with gritted teeth.

 

“God, Betty you’re so fucking good.”

 

It was enough to make her toes curl and her body shake as the pleasure swirled in her stomach. They moved together in a messy symphony of skin on skin, desperate kisses, and earth-shattering moans. Never before had she felt so connected with someone. There was not a beginning or an ending, they simply were.

 

She cried out, gripping onto his shoulder as he rocked up against her. Each time he moved Betty felt like she was going to explode. Everything was building up and at any minute it would all come crashing down in a wave of inexplicable joy. Her nails dug into the skin of his back as they rocked together, her peak coming ever closer. She could feel him clenching his muscles too, trying to fight it off for as long as he could.

 

“Let go,” she whispered, leaving a feather light kiss on his ear. “Please, Juggie. I want to feel you let go.”

 

When he lost himself, she followed close behind, riding off the last of their high together as the pleasure shot through her like a bolt of electricity, frying her nerve endings and making her head fuzzy. They sat there, lost in the afterglow of their passion, tangled together as her heart hummed with happiness.

 

“I love you, Juggie. So much. Thank you for sharing tonight with me.”

 

“I love you too, Betts. I...um...give me a second? And you should go to the bathroom. I read somewhere you should do that.”

 

Betty laughed, shaking her head. “Leave it to us to over research something so that even the afterglow is a little less sexy. Okay, I will. Throw that away first? In the garbage in the bathroom. I’ll take it out tomorrow so there’s no evidence my mom could ever find.”

 

“Deal.”

 

After the cleanup, they curled up together in bed, the last season of  _ Friends _ playing mindlessly in the background. It didn’t matter what they were watching when they were still so enthralled with each other. Jughead traced pictures in her skin she didn’t quite understand, but it helped her tight muscles ease and her mind drift to happy things.

 

“Hey, can I ask you a question?”

 

“Always.”

 

“When I asked you about Toledo earlier, you seemed… confused for a second. I don’t know if that’s the right word, but you seemed something.”

 

Jughead sighed, pulling his hand back. “Do we have to talk about this now?”

 

“So there is something to talk about! Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” If she weren’t so sore she would have wiggled away and glared at him like she had when they were younger and he stole all the crayons from her princess coloring book.

 

“Because I needed some time to think about it. My mom told me she thinks I should move to Riverdale. Permanently. With my dad. It was definitely a command phrased like an option even though she’s worried about it, but if I screamed and cried I could probably still go back to Toledo. Not that I want to go to Toledo since I have nothing there but dogs I hate. And JB, but… Mom and Dad are starting to fix things, you know? Maybe she could come visit? And you’re here.”

 

“Oh, Jug.” She gently cupped his face, trying to wipe away the troubled features with a few kisses. “I want you here, too. More than anything in the entire world, but you can’t make that decision just because of me, alright? It should be about you. What’s best for you in the long run? Being here? Or being in Toledo?”

 

Every part of her was screaming out to beg him to stay, to set up a happy little home in Riverdale where they could go to school together and hold each other’s hands in public, with no more messy Skype calls or barking dogs to interrupt their peace. It sounded like a fantasy. Maybe it was. Jughead seemed much more confused by this turn of events, unsure where he should place his emotions--a common Jones problem for as long as she had known him. Even when things worked out well, he found a way to worry.

 

“Frankly, I don’t know. Toledo has never made me happy. I sleep on a pull out couch with two dogs I hate biting at me to wake up at the ass crack of dawn. I have a few friends but they know things aren’t great at home. Mom and I have fought less since I’ve been here if you can believe it, and you’re here. But I just… I’m worried that my dad won’t be able to hold onto sobriety long enough to get me through high school here, and then come halfway through senior year I’m shipped back off to Ohio, or worse, a foster family that has no interest in me.”

 

Betty understood. That was a lot of trust to be placing in a man who had failed to step up to the plate of fatherhood time and time again. Even when FP did take a swing, he often missed and coped by looking down the barrel of a bottle. As far as she knew, things were decent in the Jones household, enough so that FP and Jughead even had the occasional father son dinner date out at Pop’s. Last week they’d gone out to see a movie at the Bijou, and for the first time in a long time, her boyfriend sat down and told her all about his father. 

 

FP was not a perfect man, that much anyone with a set of eyes--bad or otherwise--could see. He was a recovering addict with a criminal record. He had abandoned, lied to, and hurt his son more times than he could count on two hands. But now, at least he was trying, and if that was enough for Jughead, it was certainly enough for Betty. All she wanted was to see him smile, relax, and allow himself a moment to be free of the adult burdens that shouldn’t be pressing down on his shoulders for at least another five years.

 

Reaching out, she pulled him into a tight hug, where his head could rest against her chest and listen to the steady beating of her heart. She watched the tension slowly release from his body. They stayed together in content silence, breathing in sync, hands tangled together.

 

“I don’t know what I want yet. I don’t know what the right answer is. If there even is one.”

 

“There isn’t. But that’s okay too. There doesn’t have to be a right answer, just one that you feel good about. And you have time. We’ve got a little time left in summer for you to think on that decision. So stop worrying so much. Remember, we had a really good night.”

 

Jughead smiled up at her and she felt her heart flutter, like it always did when they were together in such an intimate setting. 

 

“Oh, did we? Tell me about it. I want to hear how wonderful it was.”

 

“Shush. Or I won’t ever tell you again.”

 

Already on top of her, he was in a perfect position for his attack. Betty didn’t even see it coming, but before she could blink, his fingers were at her sides, making her squeal out in forced delight. This was not the first time she had been victim to such an unkind assault. When she was pressed so tightly against his side, trapped in his grasp, she couldn’t even squirm away from him as the laughter reverberated off her bedroom walls.

 

“Stop! Oh my god, Juggie, stop! That’s not fair! You dirty cheater!”

 

When all the tears and screams she had in her lungs were successfully ripped out, he let her go. Betty huffed and smacked his chest. It was impossible to stay too mad at him though, especially when all she could think about was how terribly, frighteningly, amazingly in love she was with him. Looking into his eyes, she knew it better than anything else.

 

“I love you.” She whispered against his lips.

 

He reached out, gently running a hand through the knots of her messy blonde locks. “I love you too, Betty. Thanks for listening to me. Maybe tomorrow we can think a little bit more about it? But right now, I need to take a nap. Or twelve. You exhausted me.”

 

“Oh? Did I? Oops.”

 

The little giggle did nothing to support her half heartedly apology. Jughead rolled his eyes, pulling her down onto the bed with her. They tangled together, bodies pressed together under the soft pink crumpled sheets. After a day full of nonstep excitement, Betty was glad to fall asleep beside him, content and hopeful for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this one and you're sticking around to see how I finish it. What sort of decision do you think Jughead will make? :o


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead makes his bones with Toledo and finally decides to do what we always thought he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is going to be a double update in the sense that this is the final chapter, but i have a small about 900 word epilogue written out that doesn't quite fit thematically at the end of this chapter, so is getting posted as it's own within the next few minutes after this one!
> 
> I want to thank everyone who's stuck around for the ride, as I know it's occasionally been tumultuous. I appreciate the feedback I've gotten (both good and bad) that has ultimately made me feel a more confident writer in the stories that are to come after this. (There's two, by the way. Catch a sneak peak of one in the end notes of the epilogue!)
> 
> I'll save my huge thank yous and kisses for the epilogue so I hope you enjoy <3

Jughead watched Betty sleep, watched the rise and fall of her chest, watched the flutter of her eyelashes as she faded off into a place of peace and dreams. He didn’t stop watching until her body was still and her breathing was even. Then, planting a kiss on her cheek, he snuck out of bed, throwing on an old flannel and his boxers so he could go outside into the cool night air and think for a moment. There was a lot weighing on his chest tonight.

 

Sex with Betty had been earth shattering in every conceivable way. His eyes were open now to how things were supposed to be, to how love could blossom and grow from the childlike innocence of a first touch to the fiery burn of red hot passion. Then again, he shouldn’t be surprised. She was constantly teaching him things, constantly making the world around him fill with color and light. Every time he thought about them, together, as a pair, he got butterflies he couldn’t describe in his chest.

 

He poured himself a glass of fresh iced tea—a gift from Polly to congratulate them for “finally pulling their heads out of their asses and making that plunge”—and went to the back of the Cooper house. Once comfortable on the porch swing, he pulled out his phone, dialing the number of someone he knew would be awake at this ungodly hour just like he was.

 

Insomnia, thy name was Trula Twyst.

 

The phone rang twice before she answered, her familiar, warm tone filling his ears. “Hello, Jones. To what do I owe this midnight pleasure?”

 

“Everything you say is painfully creepy, you know that right?”

 

“Absolutely, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. I get the feeling a few exchanges of pleasantries isn’t what you called for. Did you and Goldilocks finally do the deed? I know you were practically shitting your pants about it.”

 

Jughead laughed, shaking his head. His relationship with Trula was complex even on the best of days. What he knew above all else was that she was his friend, probably one of his best, at least from Toledo.

 

“We did. And it was good.”

 

“Just good? I was expecting to hear about fireworks.”

 

“It was… everything. I felt like the universe opened up and I felt so at ease with her. It was like I’d opened up my soul and she could see into it and I could see into hers and were were just together, Betty and Jughead, with nothing else in the world that mattered. No school, no worries, no stupid family bullshit. Just us. I’ve never felt like that before.”

 

Her voice softened. “I know, Jones. I know. And you, little poet, deserve to have someone wax as much poetry about you as you do about them. You need to send me a picture. I’ve only ever seen her through the grainy Skype filter.”

 

“I will. She’s gorgeous. Prettiest girl in the entire world. The universe, maybe.”

 

He let his mind wander in the silence, to the night he’d fumbled his way through his virginity. It had been messy. Bad. Painful in a lot of ways. They were both too drunk, too stupid, and too hurt to be there like they should have been. A few upperclassman had spiked the punch with the just right amount of vodka to make bad decisions seem like good ones. They both left the encounter feeling empty. Hollow. So they tried again, sober, to see if there was anything between them.

 

There wasn’t.

 

“Do you ever regret it? What we did?”

 

Trula laughed. “I don’t regret anything. Things happen for a reason and I think what you needed was to try and get over Betty, which you couldn’t, by the way. And what I needed was to see if everyone telling me that we made sense together were right. Think of it as an experimental research design with conclusive results. We’re terribly incompatible as mates and are better off getting high and debating over philosophical topics.”

 

“You know, normal people would call that a friendship.”

 

“Normal people don’t call each other at midnight either, and yet here we are. Your mom called me, by the way, to tell me you’re moving back to Riverdale. How do you feel about that?”

 

“Oh, have you been studying Freud recently? Planning on telling me I have mommy issues?”

 

“Please, I don’t need to psychoanalyze you to know you have mommy issues. I’m asking you a question because I want to know the answer. I’m trying to understand your motivations here. Indulge me.”

 

A tricky statement to unravel when even he was unsure about them. He wanted to come to Riverdale for Betty, to be with the girl he loved and fulfill every rich fantasy she deserved to have. But he also wanted to come back because he always felt he’d left things unfinished when he left the first time. There were friendships to forge and messes to make. And then there was his dad, a relationship that needed more than a few midnight back alley therapy sessions from his wannabe psychologist friend.

 

“I don’t know if I am yet. But I want to. It feels like the right thing to do. Being at home is killing any sort of relationship I could ever have with Mom. I’d miss Jellybean and you and everyone else in Toledo, but other than that I don’t have anything there for me. Here I’ve got…”  A future. But he didn’t say it. It sat on his tongue. Maybe that was the truth. In Riverdale he could see a future, brighter than any star he’d seen whizzing across the night sky. 

 

“Something,” he said instead. “Something good. Something worth chasing after, even if it is terrifying.”

 

“Then chase it, Jughead. And don’t be stupid. Do what you have to do to be happy.”

 

He hung up the phone feeling lighter, stumbling his way up the stairs and crawling into bed beside Betty. When Jughead closed his eyes, he imagined it, the world with Betty at his side. He imagined a world where every morning he woke up with her curled up next to her. He imagined days that would flow together in blissful blurs. He imagined firecracker nights like the one they had just shared.

 

The last thing he imagined before falling asleep was the feel of her lips against his, whispering sweet nothings as they faded into sleep together. But maybe he hadn’t imagined that at all.

 

\-----------------

 

There was nothing like the heavy thrum of anxiety to make Jughead crave the sweet release of death. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that a few blinks behind her long eyelashes and Betty could make him do anything she wanted. Jump over the moon. How high? Catch me some stars. How many would you like, dear? Talk with your dad before making your final decision about if you’re going to stay in Riverdale or not. Maybe later?

 

Betty had let him have “maybe later” for two weeks, but with summer gently creeping to a close, it was getting time to tell his mom if he would need to start transferring school records and shipping his few possessions to Riverdale. For once, Gladys was understanding of his hesitance. She told him to take his time and let her know when he was ready. In a desperate attempt to avoid making such a difficult decision, Jughead was doing everything in his power to stop Betty from broaching the subject.

 

Every time she opened her mouth to ask, he’d distract her with a kiss, or a few hundred, and they’d find themselves tangled together on a blanket outside, bathing in the summer sunshine. He never wanted those moments to end. With her, it was pure bliss, flying above the clouds and watching her green eyes reflect his own happiness right back up at him.

 

But it didn’t matter how many times he cut her off with an ‘I love you’, or tried to point out how pretty that dress made her look. She was determined to get him to work things out with his dad. Meanwhile, the very thought of a conversation made Jughead’s stomach church and his heart twist like he was experiencing some kind of terrible digestive heartburn. But there was very little he wouldn’t do for her, and if she thought talking with his dad would help—and, logically, he understood where she was coming from—then he would march right up to the trailer he hadn’t stepped foot inside of since early summer and ask FP Jones for some answers. Or maybe he would just lazily wander up to the front door and not bother to knock until Betty honked her horn and pointed for him to go.

 

He went back up to her side of the car door, knocking until she rolled down her window. The glare she gave him was still painfully adorable, even if they’d been at this for nearly a half hour and her frustration was practically palpable.

 

“I don’t want to.”

 

“I don’t care, Juggie, because you need to. You’ll never feel good about whatever decision you make until you sit down and talk with him about your worries, your fears, and the fact you think you might want to move here at all. You need to do this. For you.”

 

He groaned, trying hard to avoid acknowledging the very real fact that his girlfriend was right, he was wrong, and also, potentially, being a giant idiot about this entire exchange. He shouldn’t be afraid of his father, not about this anyway. A fear of abandonment made sense, but just talking, well, FP had always at least pretended to listen, even when he was in a drunken stupor. But maybe that was at the root of it all. That little boy who had been abandoned was still terrified of it happening again, of putting his faith in his father only to have it crumble under his feet.

 

“I’m scared.”

 

Betty’s eyes softened and she gave him a gentle kiss to soothe his worries. “I know. And it’s okay to be afraid. But nothing will change until you face that fear head on. Think about it this way, if we had both kept being afraid we wouldn't’ be where we are now, and that would be a tragedy of the highest caliber, as Kevin likes to say. You worry, and I get why, but I want you to at least try.”

 

“Okay. Okay, I’ll try. I’ll go in there and I’ll start a conversation and then we’ll see how it goes from there. But you have to leave or I’ll keep coming back and trying to get you to comfort me. I think he’s starting to get suspicious of the constant horn in the driveway.”

 

“Probably. You’ve got this. Text me when you want to come back, okay? Remember, I promised Polly we’d babysit the twins tonight, but if you can’t I understand. I love you.”

 

“I love you too. I promise I’ll be there to help so you’re not left to your own devices with twin terrors.”

 

“I’ve survived much harder battles. At least they’re older toddlers now. When they were two I could hardly keep my head on straight.”

 

Jughead grimaced. “That sounds right. Okay, I promise I’ll let you know. I’m going to go in there and… do this. Finally. I think.”

 

“That’s the mostly the spirit. Now go before I run you over with my car and break your pretty face.”

 

“You think my face is pretty?”

 

“You  _ know _ I think your face is pretty, Jones. Now shoo.”

 

The engine revved and she was off, driving out of the shaky dirt lot of Sunnyside, leaving him to face his demons at last. Jughead took a moment to think, to breath, and then brought his fist down twice on the trailer door. He heard FP stir and mumble something profane about the honking.

 

“Finally ready to talk, boy?” he asked, opening the door.

 

“Yeah. I think so.”

 

They sat around the rickety dining room table waiting for someone to break the uncomfortable and uneasy silence that had settled around them. Finally, Jughead pointed at the coffee pot in a wordless question and soon there were two cups sitting between them, each black and unmixed. Maybe father and son were much more similar than either of them were willing to admit.

 

“Mom asked me if I wanted to move to Riverdale.”

 

“I know, she told me about it. Have you thought about it at all?”

 

“That’s why I’m here.” Jughead took a shaky breath and tried to organize his thoughts. It all felt overwhelming, bubbling up until it sat at the edge of a dam, threatening to spill over. “I wanted to talk with you about… everything that happened. When I was younger. And you were in jail. And just… make sure that if I come and live here with you, that it’s not going to be like it was before. That I won't be let down by you again and that you’re going to be my dad, because that’s what I need you to be.”

 

The silence was back, thicker this time, but at least he had said what he wanted to say. Whatever came next would fall entirely on his father’s shoulders—a novel concept when responsibility wasn’t something the man was known for. That and his follow through. FP tried to open his mouth to speak but no words came out. Again he tried. And again he failed. Any other moment, watching his dad floundering like a fish out of water would have been funny. Now, it was disheartening.

 

Maybe there were no answers. Maybe it was only pain and more questions that awaited him at the end of this conversation. Sure, there were some things he knew, at least briefly from the snips he’d heard from his mother over the years and in newspaper clipping he’d snuck out of the library when sheer curiosity got the best of him. He knew his father had led a gang, had caused a lot of problems for a lot of people, and ended up locked away. He didn’t want to know anymore than that when it came to the nitty gritty details of jail time, but maybe a deep part of him, that child who had watched the night of his father’s arrest with bright curiosity, wanted to know why. Why was he so willing to throw his life away? Why did he do something he knew was wrong and ruin his family? Why did he drink? Why did he spiral?

 

Why did you let mom take us away?

 

Why didn’t you try harder?

 

Why didn’t you love me enough to fix things?

 

Jughead bit his tongue and waited for a response. When it came, he felt all the air deflate from his being in relief. Betty was right—of course she was—talking could be cathartic if done right.

 

“I promise you Jug, I’m going to do better. I know I made that promise a lot growing up, but I was sick. I’m sure you already knew that, not like Gladys ever kept the fact that I was a drunkard a secret from anyone. But I did a lot of stupid things because of it. I lost my job and I needed to make money so I started back up with the Serpents. Except being in a gang isn’t good for trying not to drink and there were a lot of nights I fell through with that. I fell through with a lot of things and I’m sorry.

 

“And every time I messed up I’d drink to try and forget about it. But it wasn’t… it was never you. You know that, right kid? It was never you or your sister. I was a shitty father, about as bad as my old man was and he kicked me out when I was sixteen, but I don’t want to be like that anymore.”

 

Jughead nodded, trying to wrap his head around everything his dad had said. He felt hopeful, sure, it was hard not to when all his childhood fantasies were coming true before his very eyes. Here was his dad, practically begging to have him back in his life, promising to be someone better. But fear lingered no matter how hard he tried to push past it. What if history was doomed to repeat itself?

 

“Why are you willing to try now but you weren’t then?”

 

FP nodded, like he had expected the question since the first moment they had sat down and started talking. 

 

“I don’t have the answer you want to hear. I thought it would be easier to just let your mom do whatever it is she thought was best. Obviously I had no idea how to raise kids. Guess she didn’t either though. I’m surprised you’re as well adjusted as you are.

 

“When you were kids, I didn’t know what I was doing. Everything was about the alcohol, but even in the moments of clarity I knew I was doing something wrong, but I couldn’t stop. Even if I wanted to, it didn’t seem impossible. So I tried when I could, but watching your heart break when I tried made it worse.

 

“Then, when I got locked up, I tried writing. I tried calling, but eventually I got the hint and figured you weren’t interested in your old man anymore. And I wasn’t going to push it. I figured you’d moved on from your old man. Not that I could blame you. I wrote one last letter, hoping you’d find it, and I guess it worked.

 

“I can’t promise you a lot here. I’ve got a double wide with one bedroom, which you can have by the way, if you want to stay. I’ve got a shitty job as a soda jerk and a lot of debts I owe to a lot of people who helped me out when no one else would. But I want to make you a priority. I get the feeling that doesn’t happen much. I know I was shitty at it before, but I hope you’ll give me one more chance to prove I’m better than I was.”

 

He nodded, throat closed too tight to say anything. If he dared, the dam would break and it would all come forward: the tears, the pain, the quiet sobs of relief and agony so painfully intertwined it would take weeks to untangle them. Gladys was too much, Jellybean too young, his grandparents too mean. The only person who made him feel like he was worth anything was Betty Cooper. But here his dad was, extending an olive branch, promising to  _ try _ to  _ do better _ . It was enough for now.

 

“Maybe things aren’t so great in Toledo. I can’t promise how good they’ll be here, but I want to be here for you, son. I want you to take your time. We can go as slow as you need to. I know I haven’t been around for most of your life, so I’ve got a lot to learn and fast, but I’m up to the challenge if you’re willing to teach me.”

 

“Yeah… yeah, okay, Dad. I think I could do that.”

 

And then Jughead was crying, tears streaming down his cheeks despite how desperate he was to hold them back. It felt strange, being so vulnerable, so open with someone who wasn’t his favorite ponytailed blonde. But it felt good, too. It felt nice to finally wrap his arms around his dad and cry for all the time they could never get back. He cried for all the birthdays he stood by the mailbox and hoped letters would come. He cried for all the father-son fishing trips he never got to throw a fit about going on. He cried for all the missed moments and hours and seconds that would never be.

 

But maybe he cried for the future, too. This was far from the end of whatever story was about the unfold. It was just the beginning.

 

“Alright, boy. Man up.” FP wiped the tears from his eyes, offering his son a gentle smile. “I’m sure you’ve got plans with Betty today and I’d hate to keep you away from them. Don’t forget to tell her I said thank you for dragging your ass in here. I sure as hell wasn’t going to get it done.”

 

“I will. But it’ll go to her head and she’ll be grinning like an idiot all day long.”

 

“Is that such a bad thing?”

 

Jughead blushed, imagining the little bounce in her step when she got excited over the littlest things. 

 

“No. It wouldn’t.” He shook his head and took a breath. “You really don’t mind if I move in? Just to confirm. Before I tell my girlfriend and her friends who have by extension become my group of friends. Seriously, Dad. I’m friends with a guy named Kevin Keller who’s favorite things to do include a tabletop RPG and gossiping about a beauty guru’s hair. Dad, I know what a beauty guru is now.”

 

“That’s what happens when you find the one, kid. You get so tangled up in her life and you never want to leave. Consider yourself lucky. For your sake, don’t let him trick you into playing Elfs and Eclipses or whatever hogwash it is. He’s on the wrestling team, but you’re skin and bones and I’d hate to have to ask the Andrews kid to fish you out of a trash can.”

 

“Always a beacon of support.” He rolled his eyes, unable to keep the smile away as he pulled out his phone and texted Betty he was ready to be picked up.

 

After a few minutes of awkward early morning chatter—work, the weather, a few personal details about the ever developing relationship with Betty that Jughead wasn’t quite ready to talk about yet—he heard the familiar honk of the Cooper horn and stood. “That’s my ride. Catch you later.”

 

“See you around, kid. Call me when you’re on your way back. Whenever that is.”

 

“Could I text you?” Watching FP’s face distort into a grimace, he laughed. “Guess not. I’ll make sure to call.”

 

He left, quiet mutters about the confusing nature of text messaging and ineffective communication in the modern era following him out the door. Feeling lighter than he had in weeks, Jughead opened the door and slid inside, planting a solid kiss right to Betty’s pretty pink painted lips. She smiled and ran a hand along his jawline.

 

“So I take it things went well? What’s the final verdict?”

 

It was easy to tell this had been weighing on her just as heavily as it had been for him these last few days. When he was busy thinking, she was watching, studying every minute facial expression for signs. She was constantly reassuring him her hopes were reasonable. She was reasonable. But there was no denying the wistful looks she let linger on longer than usual.

 

“I hope you haven’t gotten tired of me yet, Betts, because I’m going to need to have someone show me around Riverdale High when fall semester starts.”

 

“Oh, Jug. You mean it?”

 

“I mean it. I’m here to stay.”

 

She threw her arms around him, ignoring the parking break between them as she crawled over into his lap, holding him so tightly it was like she thought he might disappear into thin air at any moment. “I love you so much, Betty. I couldn’t leave. Not for anything.”

 

“I love you, Jug. Always and forever. Now, are you ready to help watch the twins with me? I promise they’re a lot sweeter than I made them sound over the phone.”

 

“Betty, one time the small one, well, the smaller one, tried to throw me against a wall because I told her that I thought the color green was better than blue.”

 

“Don’t be so melodramatic.” Betty rolled her eyes, sliding back into her seat (not before smacking his hand away under her skirt). “She tried to throw my phone, and you just so happened to be on the screen.”

 

“If I had been there, she would have used her tiny Hulk powers to chuck me through your living room wall and you know it. Juniper scares the shit out of me.”

 

“She gets that from a lot of people.”

 

“She’s  _ like five. _ ”

 

“She’s a scary five year old! So were you, if I remember right.”

 

“Please, I was adorable and you were madly in love with me instantly.”

 

Betty snorted. “Jughead, you called Reggie Mantle a plebeian and then he punched you for using words that were too big.”

 

“Reggie Mantle is a fucking plebeian.”

 

“According to who?”

 

“Me. And Plato the philosopher. I know him very intimately.” Jughead frowned, replaying his own words over in his head until he wasn’t sure exactly how he’d meant them to come out. Neither way was good. “I promise I’m not secretly fucking the dead body of a historic Grecian man.”

 

“I wouldn’t blame you. Have you seen all those busts they have in the museums? Positively titillating.”

 

“Why are we dating again?”

 

She placed her lips on his and suddenly everything fell into place. Oh. That was why. With her, everything was greater than it ever could have been on his own.

 

“Reasons suddenly becoming clearer. I’ll have to have a few more kisses to test that theory though.”

 

She rolled her eyes, pushing his face away with a laugh before revving her engine and steering them in the direction of the highway.

 

A bubbly pop song came on the radio, one he’d always hated back in Toledo, but it sounded brighter filtering through the tiny speakers of Betty Cooper’s car, like the way they always did at the end of those team movies he hated to admit he’d watched during late night Skype calls. (Who could honestly deny Chad Michael Murray in  _ A Cinderella Story _ ?) He looked up at the afternoon sky and spotted a star twinkling in the sky. If he remembered right, that was the start of Andromeda, making an early appearance. 

 

He let his eyes drift the the girl beside him humming along with the trite tune, a smile so lovely on her lips it might as well have been painted by Leonardo Da Vinci himself. This was it. A brand new start to a brand new chapter. No more disconnected skype calls in the dead of night. No more unpaid phone bills that made scrounging up quarters from defective soda pop machines the only way to get to hear her voice. No more fear of the unknown.

 

Jughead reached out and took her hand. Their fingers fit perfectly together, just like they always had. He brought her knuckles to his lips and placed a delicate kiss on her alabaster skin. Betty answered with a blush and a little squeeze. She could feel it too. Something was shifting now, and it was was all for the best as far as he was concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Epilogue


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thank yous to all the betas who've helped me along the way. Thank you to @betty-cooper for making me gifs that essentially propelled our friendship ever forward I love you and this story for giving me that friendship. Also thank you to @bettscoopr for literally beta-ing everything I throw at you no matter the time of day you are actually just a hero.
> 
> Shout out to all the lovely people who said sweet things to me when I was down about this. @jandjsalmon, @mothermaple, literally ALL OF YOU who were sweet enough to remind me that I'm a good writer and my words are worth being put out there even if I got disheartened.
> 
> Thank each and every one of you for reading. I know sometimes this fic was a bit messy, just because I didn't plan it out as well as I should have/could have because it started off as a little drabble. I know things weren't always consistent but to have the support and love for this that it does means the absolute world to me.
> 
> Remember, I've got a sneak peak of my next fic in the end notes if you're interested in a little neighbors slow burn Bughead

**Kevin:**

Jughead do you have the sign?

Jughead???

JUGHEAD??

Veronica he’s not answering. 

 

**Cheryl:**

Don’t have a coronary, Leave it to Beaver, he’s with me. We’re picking up the sign now. You’d be surprised how hard it is to find a dozen white lilies in this town. Tragically impossible. We had to drive to Centerville to pick them up. Me. In Centerville. They’ve never seen something so beautiful come into their hick town before.

 

**Kevin:**

ETA?!!!

 

**Cheryl:**

Don’t shout at me.

 

**Kevin:**

OH 

I’m sorry.

eta?!!!!

I can’t keep her stalled forever and she’s way too smart for all these Shakespeare riddles. I had to make her second guess her entire understanding of King Lear before she finally came to the same conclusion she started with.

 

**Veronica:**

Don’t freak, Kev, they’re here.

 

**Archie:**

Sparrow and Hawk have landed.

 

**Cheryl:**

New rule, we never let Archie give code names ever again.

 

**Veronica:**

Don’t be mean, Cher, it makes him feel useful.

 

**Cheryl:**

Have him be more useful and get his football lackies to get over here faster!

 

**Archie:**

Cheryl, when you shout, you sound like a bitch.

 

**Cheryl:**

My poor, fragile feelings. However will I get over such a terrible insult?

Oh and I’ve already forgotten another of the irrelevant things Archie’s said! How lucky for me.

 

**Veronica:**

Okay Kev, we’re all set over here. Jughead’s shaking like a leaf and if Betty doesn’t show up soon he might start throwing up.

 

**Cheryl:**

This is ridiculous. They’re practically old and married and this is worrying him?

 

**Veronica:**

I think it’s sweet.

Bring her in Kevin.

 

**Archie:**

Operation Prom-posal is a go!

 

This whole afternoon Betty had been running through the school hallways with Kevin, lost, frustrated, and following a strange series of Shakespearean riddles he said were going to “help her better prepare for the SATs,” at least according to some new age book he was reading. It was around  _ Henry V _ that she had started to get suspicious there were ulterior motives involved. And he wasn’t letting her take off her stupid boots. Her feet were rubbed raw with blisters, but he just kept muttering something about thanking him later.

 

When they wandered past the music room for the fourth time in the last hour, she pulled her arm away from his and stood her ground. “Kevin, where are we going? I’m tired, I’m hungry, and I’m so late for meeting Jug at the library to go over our project. And you stole my phone so I can’t even call him and let him know my best friend has tricked me into some sadist mind game!”

 

“Come on, Betty, you know this is the last place it could be. We’ll just have on peek inside the Blue and Gold, and if nothing’s there then you have my solemn promise as a gentleman I will let you free.” He crossed an ‘X’ over his heart.

 

She sighed. “Okay. Fine. I trust you. But one look and that’s it.”

 

The keys to the office were clipped onto her purse, but before she could reach to get them, Kevin was opening the door. Betty gasped and everything in her hands clattered to the floor. Jughead was standing in the center of the room, gripping a bouquet of lilies, knuckles nearly as white as the flowers. Veronica and Cheryl were tucked in the corner, taking rapidfire photos on each of their phones as Archie and a few of his friends held up a sign.

 

Shakespeare wrote sonnets about people not as pretty as you.

But I’ve never been a poet, that much is true.

So instead I’ll ask it simple and straight:

Would you go to prom with me, we could make it a date?

 

She was going to kill them all later. But for now she was crying, running forward so she could throw her arms tightly around her boyfriend. The flowers were crushed between them, but all she cared about was kissing him, running her hands through his soft curls and smiling in disbelief.

 

“Jughead, this is so romantic.”

 

“I know it’s very unlike him,” Kevin commented from the back. “I wonder who convinced him to do such a grand gesture? You know, Kevin is totally an agender name these days, works for first born boys and girls. Just in case you were wondering.”

 

Betty smiled up at Jughead, pulling back to collect her flowers so they would still be salvageable with a little water and some love. “Yes, Juggie, I’ll go to prom with you. I’d go anywhere with you.”

 

“I figured, but it was nice to hear it outloud anyway, don’t you think?”

 

Unbothered by the flickers and flashes of pictures, she grabbed him by the collar and kissed him again. “I love you, Jughead Jones.”

 

“I love you too, Betty Cooper. I always have. I always will.”

 

“I hope you don’t ever stop.”

 

“I never could.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt from 101 Ways to Cope With Being a Post Grad:
> 
> _He knocked once and waited. When no reply came, he knocked again. The third knock was less than polite, followed by a, “Hello?!” Just as the words left his lips, Jughead was greeted with another loud bark. Yes, Betty was certainly the culprit harboring the loud animals. He squared his shoulders and got ready for an argument about human decency and keeping your pets quiet when it got to midnight._
> 
> _Every word died on his tongue the instant the door opened. As it turned out, Betty Cooper was not a grey-haired woman with horn-rimmed glasses, but instead a sweet looking, blonde-haired girl around his age in a fluffy pink robe and horn-rimmed glasses. His throat felt dry. His eyes felt dry. Was he blinking? Oh god, he wasn’t blinking. He forced himself to flutter his eye lashes, only to get a strange look from the girl._
> 
> _It was then that it occurred to him she was waiting for him to speak, since it was him who had initiated their awkward social interaction by knocking on her door at 11:30 in the evening on a friday._
> 
> _“Hi.” What genius level phrasing. Truly he was a masterful poet of the English language. Shakespeare watch out, Jughead Jones was coming for your powdery white wig._
> 
> _“Um… hey… can I help you?” ___

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr @tory-b (I am still doing prompts but it might take me some time since I've got a lot lined up!)
> 
> Don't forget to tell me if you want to see more of this silly little idea or not!


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